


Blood on the Tracks

by paperbuildings



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Canon, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperbuildings/pseuds/paperbuildings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years after swearing to never look back, Dave Karofsky returns to Lima to bring comfort to an unlikely friend. Little does he know the bond that will form, and the night of memories, melancholy, love, conversation, and Bob Dylan his trip home will bring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tangled Up in Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I started in 2010 in a notebook during a Christmas shopping trip, and finished in early 2011, that follows canon up to 2x08 _Furt_. It ignores almost everything after, and much of it differs strongly from the canon we know today - and the headcanon I've since developed based on that. All that said, I'm still quite proud of how it turned out these 3 years later.

It had been 7 years since he'd last seen him, since he'd pushed him into a locker, since he'd threatened to kill him —the emptiest threat he'd made. If he were to die, Dave wasn't sure he'd want to live himself. Seven long, life changing years. He'd come out to Azimio a few months after Kurt left McKinley.

"You're... You're one of them?" Azimio had asked. His voice was littered with shock and confusion.

"Yeah, I guess I'm 'one of them', whatever that means."

"Get away from me, fucking faggot!"

Those words cut Dave like a knife.

"Dude, come on. Don't be like-"

"FUCK YOU!" he'd shouted as he pushed Dave into the locker. Karmic retribution, he'd supposed, for all the times he'd done the same to the much smaller Kurt.

He sat there on the ground in front of his locker. He could feel the wet warmth of blood in his hair, the taste of copper in his mouth like sucking on a coin. He was familiar with the feel of it on his knuckles, he was used to the feel of it after football and hockey practice, after long, hard games, but he'd never felt it like this, at the hand of another.

It was more than just physical pain. Every part of him hurt. Rejected by his best friend. It was the very thing he was afraid of most.

More than ever he'd regretted his treatment of Kurt Hummel. He could feel it, physically feel it, as it formed a lump in his throat. His stomach twisted. Why did he have to push away the one person who he thought would still care about him at the end of the day, if he only knew the _real_ him? Jealousy. Fear. He'd crushed on Kurt since he started McKinley. It was Kurt's freshman year, Dave's sophomore, and the first time he saw him, his eyes weren't quite sure where to look first. He was wearing a houndstooth scarf tied around his neck, a Sgt. Pepper jacket, and tight black jeans. He'd known he was different for a long time. He figured out he was gay in middle school. He'd had crushes before, but something about this boy was different.

Seven long years later. Seven long damn years, and here he was, back in fucking Lima where this whole mess started. He never wanted to come back here. Never. When he got away, he swore he'd never look back. Fuck his friends, fuck his family, fuck everything. He was never coming back here. Never. But here he was, and under circumstances that he wished were different.

Funerals. He was used to them. He had no grandparents left. His friend Bryan died in his sophomore year, the same year he met Kurt. But none of those were nearly as bad, as heartbreaking to him, as Mason's. He was 7 years old when his brother, whom he'd idolized since he could remember, had died. He remembered everything, from the phone ringing in the middle of the night and waking him up, to the all too vivid memory of seeing his father cry for the first time.

He was 7 years old, and even then, he knew he was never enough. His brother's death confirmed that. Mason was 16, a licensed driver for all of 4 months, when his parents got the call. He'd swerved to miss a deer. That fucking deer changed everything, or rather it just amplified what already was times 10. That fucking deer...

Mason ran track, played football, basketball, and even hockey (his father's personal favorite), yet he never appeared to be stretched too thin. Dave was never as into sports as his father or brother. His interest in the games were more casual, but he went along with it in an attempt to just be _enough_. But he wasn't. Never. As hard as he tried, joining pee-wee his first year of school, to watching every damn game on television right between his father and brother, he was never able to escape Mason's shadow. He didn't so much mind. He loved his brother, and his brother loved him. He'd only wished his father would look at him the same way he looked at Mason, that he'd see the same spark in his eye when he talked about him. The spark was never there, and it ate at him, especially since the day he figured out he was gay. His father wasn't a hate-filled bigot by any means, but he'd certainly heard the word faggot tossed around during a hockey game or two. Would this man ever _really_ accept him? Dave struggled with this for years. His grades would fluctuate, he would lash out... He was sure his family would never accept him, never love him for who he truly was. After coming out to Azimio he had even less reason to believe in his world's improvement. He was resigned to the fact that he would just have to go at it alone, that he would just have to stop his own feelings from consuming him. He didn't want to be gay, he didn't want to have these feelings, and he'd do anything to stop them. The only problem with that was, the more he tried to push the feelings down, the more regret he'd feel. The more regret he'd feel, the more his feelings would bubble up inside him, and the angrier he'd get. There was no stopping it. There was only hiding it.

Here he was, 7 years later, on the cusp of quarter-life, and things had changed for him. But in Lima, it always brought the feelings of old back to him. Now, however, instead of striving to push himself down, to hide and run, he would harness all of his energy into staving off his own emotional regression. He would do his damnedest to be a better man. Hell, that's what brought him back here in the first place.

He pulled into the parking lot and turned of his car, halting Dylan's "Tangled Up in Blue". He got out of his car and walked up the sidewalk. Every step he took left a footprint behind, the soles of his old boots forming a trail to the door to the Stanton Memorial Funeral Home. He stepped inside, stomping the wet snow from his boots onto the small rug in front of the door, brushing it from the shoulders of his pea coat. He looked down the hall, where multiple viewing rooms were being used by different sets of mourners. As he walked down the long corridor, with doors every few feet, he saw pictures and wondered what stories were going on in the rooms they marked. The old Korean man in room #2, was he a man with a large, loving family, or a man with no family at all? Judging from the lack of noise, Dave worried that he may have been the latter, and it filled him with sadness. Dave grieved for the man that, he speculated at least, died lonely. Not only did he grieve for him, but he feared for himself. Would that be him?

As he walked further, he saw more faces. A woman who looked to be in her fourties. Was she a mother? Was she a wife? Were her parents still alive? An older African-American woman with incredibly kind eyes, but weathered skin that made him wonder if treacherous things had befallen her in her lifetime. The kindness in her eyes gave him huge respect for her, for maintaining that kindness, even through the sadness he theorized her to have experienced. Finally, he reached the last picture in the hall, the room he was headed to. He saw the picture, a man familiar to him, despite only briefly meeting him once while pressed against a wall. He read the top of the visitors book as he signed his name: "In Remembrance of Burt L. Hummel."


	2. Simple Twist of Fate

Dave was used to funerals by now. He knew most of what there was to know about them, and he knew he hated everything about them, from the smell of stale funeral home air, filled with the aroma of wilting flowers mingling with embalming fluid, to the way relatives he'd never met would come up to him and tell him how great it was to see him again. "How much you've grown! I remember you when you were  _this_  big!"  _That's great, lady. Who the fuck are you?_

It was always worse when his parents would try to remind him in front of said relative. "You know Mildred, your 4th cousin twice-removed, who was born 30 years before you, and will die 30 years before you, too? So then you can go to her funeral and meet cousin Antonio with the dead tooth who smells like menthol cigarettes and vaseline. Antonio remembers you when you were  _this_  big!"

This is what funerals always were. Relatives you never knew who knew everything about you from damn Christmas newsletters (the sole intent of which seemed to be to make others feel bad for not being as accomplished as your family. The only thing Dave had enjoyed about his brief expulsion 7 years ago was wondering how his mother would try and spin that for the next issue of the  _Karofsky Christmas Chronicles_ ) and Facebook updates. Whose idea was it to let old people get on Facebook anyway?

Even though he thought he knew all the ins and outs of funerals, this one was new to him. He wasn't quite prepared for all the young people in the room, all of whom he seemed to know, most of whom he'd previously tortured in some way, shape, or form. Yes, there was a great crowd. The only time he'd ever seen one this big was at the funeral for his brother. No one could look at the photo of Burt Hummel outside the door and say he died a man unloved, that's for sure.

Dave kept his head down in the hopes of avoiding getting chased out by a lynch mob, even if he knew he deserved it. Instead he was getting familiar with the matted dark green carpet that looked like it belonged in someone's hunting cabin, not with the pastel salmon stripes lining the wall of the funeral parlor. He broke his gaze from the carpet from time to time to look up and search for Kurt, while at the same time hoping not to find him. He wanted to see him more than anything, but he didn't want to create a fuss at his father's funeral. He'd already done enough to him, and none of those things he could take back, as much as he wished he could.

He sat down in a small chair in a corner where a group of old men and women were all huddled together.  _It should be safe here_ , he thought. He remained quiet, nervously scratching the cuticle of his thumbnail and running his tongue over his top lip. He kept his head down, watching the group of old people out of the corner of his eye. He tried not to listen, but couldn't help but hear what they were saying when he heard something that made his heart drop down into his stomach.

"We're so sorry about your father," one of them said.

_SHIT!_

"Yes, he was such a good man!" a plump woman with dark gray hair cooed.

Dave stirred in his chair, trying to find an inconspicuous way to move somewhere safer, away from Kurt who he now knew to be in the middle of the gaggle of elderly.

"Thank you. That means a lot."

The old people started to disperse, and Dave quickly stood, turning his gaze back to his boots. And there was Kurt, the one he drove 9 hours for, just so he could be there if he needed him. It wasn't until he got there that he realized how stupid that was. Kurt wouldn't want to see him. Seven years ago he'd told Dave he didn't want him near him, and up until now, Dave had honored that. But he didn't want him to be alone. He wanted to be there for him, as someone who understood what it felt like to lose someone. He knew Kurt didn't want him there though. Why did he come all this way? Seven years and so many things had changed, but this remained the same. He cared about Kurt, but Kurt felt nothing but contempt for him. He felt Kurt's eyes on him, he could tell Kurt was actually afraid. Did he really think he'd do something to him, at his father's funeral? God, why did he have to be that way in high school? Was he really that bad? Yes. He knew he was. But here he was, so he would try his best to make things as right as he possibly could. Before Kurt could tell him to go, he had to say  _something_.

"Hey," he said sheepishly.

"Get out." His words were cold, commanding, full of anger and hurt.

"I'm just... I..." After all this time, after working so hard to gain command of the english language, here, of all moments, he was at a loss for words. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. About your dad. And..."

"Did you really come to a funeral to harass me? Are you seriously-"

Dave cut him off. He didn't know whether he was angrier at Kurt for believing he'd do something so terrible, or at himself for making that something someone could believe. "That's not what I'm here for. I'm serious. I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry about your dad. About everything, really. I saw what happened on Facebook, and I just-"

"No. Just go!"

Dave darted his tongue against his lips and sighed, returning his eyes to the carpet he'd become so familiar with. "Alright. I'm... I'm sorry I came. I'll go. I hope you're okay, Hummel. Kurt. Kurt. I hope you're okay,  _Kurt_." He heaved a breath, and turned, leaving the funeral parlor. He headed down the hall, past the pictures, when he heard Kurt behind him.

"Outside!"

Kurt walked quickly past him, leading the way to the snowy sidewalk. When Dave stepped outside, the cold stung his cheeks. Maybe this is what being Slushied felt like. That thought made his stomach ball up even more.

Kurt stopped every once in a while on their way to a secluded area of the parking lot, under an awning where a hearse was parked, to thank people offering their condolences. Once they reached their destination, Kurt began to lay into him.

"How the hell could you come here today? Seriously? My dad is  _dead_ , and you show up here? What kind of sociopathic asshole-"

"Hey, come on! I told you, I didn't come here to be an asshole. I'm sorry I was so shitty to you in high school. I know, what I did was so fucked up. So fucked up, and if I could take it all back I would. If you don't think I regret all the shit I did to you every day... I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose someone you care about. Seriously, that is why I'm here. I don't know why I thought I would be any help to anyone. I just wanted to come here, and tell you that if you needed someone to talk to, a shoulder, whatever, someone to take you for a drink and drive you home after you get smashed because you just don't want to feel shit anymore, someone to just say 'HEY, FUCK YOU' to just because you're so pissed off at everyone because they aren't feeling what you're feeling, well, I'm here, for whatever. I don't know why I thought anyone would want me here. Why you'd want me here. I'm... just... I know. I was an asshole. But I'm not that guy. Or at least I try not to be. I don't know. I just thought... I don't know. If you needed somebody who knew how you felt, then I'm here. And I know you don't give a shit about me, and that I ruined your life and you're probably still fucked up because of me, and for that I'm sorry, but if you do need to do any of those things. Here is my number." Dave hands him a business card from his wallet, and Kurt looks at him, flabbergasted. Maybe it's because he still hates him and can't believe it's here, maybe it's because he's using more words than Kurt had ever heard him speak, Dave wasn't sure. "I'll be here for a few days. Scream at me, punch me in the face, whatever'll make you feel better. At all. I'm not going to hit you back or punch you or anything, but I'm here. Yeah. And I am sorry. And I'll go now, because, god, you don't want me here. Why would you? Why should you? I was fucking terrible to you, and I'm sorry. I'm gonna leave now, because that's what you asked me to do, and I don't want to mess you up anymore, and I know you're feeling like shit right now and I don't wanna make it worse. So yeah. I'll see you later, Kurt."

Dave took a breath, his mouth slightly dry after all that he'd just unloaded, but he had to get it out there. He had to let Kurt know he was different, that he'd be there for him if he needed him. And he intended to stay true to that on the off chance that Kurt took him up on the offer. But that'll never happen. Right?

He unlocked his car door and got inside, turning the key in the ignition, bringing it to life. The heat came roaring from the vents, and the radio blared. He flipped off the power on the car stereo, and drove to the nearest Marriott in silence.

 

Dave swiped his room key and stepped into room 310 of the Courtyard Marriott. The fluorescent lights bouncing off the maroon carpet blanketed the entire hallway in blue. His room felt much warmer. He wondered if the juxtaposition of the cold and warm tones were done on purpose to make you feel like you were stepping into a place homier than it actually was. The wall behind the bed had wallpaper that looked like tree branches intertwining with each other, while the rest of the walls were a caramel shade of tan. Dave crashed onto the small red couch adjacent to the bed, grabbing the remote and flipping on the television. Bill O'Reilly's voice boomed from the speakers, the volume turned up too loud. He pressed the down arrow on the remote, softening the sound. He rolled his eyes at the choice of channels before flipping down one to MSNBC. Dave was curious whether the previous guest had left the television on the cable "news" channel, or was it policy for the staff to tune to that channel when they were cleaning up the mess left by the previous inhabitant.

He listened as Rachel Maddow reported on a suicide bombing on the Gaza strip before changing over to a movie channel to escape the hefty weight of the day. He made a mental note to learn more about the attack in an effort to be properly informed before he returned to work. He checked the clock on the TV screen, 4:35, and sat back, mindlessly watching a movie about a wine tasting contest with the president from Independence Day and Snape from Harry Potter. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and his eyes started to get heavy. Everything drifted out of focus and slowly faded to black.

 

His eyes snapped open as his phone vibrated across the table, bumping against his feet. He muted the television, now on some sports show, and swiped his finger across the screen of his phone to answer.

"Hello?" His voice was groggy. He checked the time on television again, and this time it read 8:19. He'd slept nearly 4 hours. The close to 9-hour drive from D.C. to Lima had evidently tired him out.

"Fuck you! Okay, there," the voice on the other end of the line shouted into the phone.

He held the phone back to dull the loud voice screaming into his ear. "Kurt...?"

"Now, I remember you saying something about taking me for a drink? Well, I'm at a bar on the corner of West North now, and I could use some company. And by company I mean I don't want to bother anyone I actually like, and I'm poor so you know, if you could maybe come here and buy me a drink —I think you at least owe me that much, am I right?— then take me home, that would be swell. So there you go."

"Um, yeah... Okay..." Dave stammered. "I'll be there in like 15 minutes.

"Fabulous." With that, the phone cuts off.

Dave stands up, walking into the bathroom. He takes himself in in the mirror, still in his shirt and tie from the funeral. His hair is matted on the back from sleep. He straightens himself up, flattening the wrinkles out of his shirt with his hands. He runs his hands through his hair, and slaps some water on his face to wake him up. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and walks back into the hotel room. He changes into jeans and slides his shoes back on. Pulling on his coat, he grabs the key card from the table and heads back into the cold blue hallway. He stepped into the wood paneled elevator where Johnny Cash's "The Green Green Grass of Home" was playing a little too loudly from the speakers. 

> _The old home town looks the same_  
>  As I step down from the train  
> And there to meet me is my mama and my papa  
> Down the road I look, and there comes Mary  
> Hair of gold and lips like cherries  
> It's good to touch the green, green grass of home 

He steps out into the parking lot, freshly fallen snow covers the ground and the windows of his car. He brushes off the back window and unlocks the driver's side door, climbing in. He pulls out of the lot, turning the CD player back on. "Simple Twist of Fate" is playing, one of his favorites.

He drives past all the places he used to know. Everything still looks the same, but it's all somewhat different to him now. It lacks the familiarity of a place you'd call home. He listens to the lyrics, wondering if the music holds some sort of prophetic message for the night he has in store. 

> _They sat together in the park_  
>  As the evening sky grew dark,  
> She looked at him and he felt a spark tingle to his bones  
> 'Twas then he felt alone and wished that he'd gone straight  
> And watched out for a simple twist of fate

He pulls up to the corner of West North Street. There is a building that is not properly marked, but he can hear loud thumping music coming from the inside, so he assumes he's in the right place. He walks to the door and asks the bouncer if he's in the right place, and the bouncer confirms. He pays his cover charge, and walks in. He looks around and notices one thing: it's a gay bar.  _There's a gay bar in Lima? Why didn't I know about this before? I thought Kurt and I were the only ones in this fucking town,_ he thought to himself. He laughed and wondered if Kurt brought him here because he thought it would make him nervous, or that it would embarrass him. If that was his intent, it didn't go as planned. Dave was no stranger to gay bars since leaving Lima. His ex-boyfriend Stuart always used to drag him to them, even though clubs were never really his scene. They always made him feel the vague sensation of suffocation. He wasn't a fan of crowds, and seeing people dance in cages, like the skinny boy in pink spandex boy shorts he just made eye contact with, always made him feel strangely sad for them. That surely wasn't what they dreamed of doing when they were young.

He searched for Kurt, looking through the crowd, and thankfully, he found the young man sitting at the bar, a more secluded area than the dance floor. He pushed through the crowd and took a seat on the stool next to him.

"Hey."

Kurt looked over at him and with cold tone responded, "Hey."

> _Felt an emptiness inside to which he just could not relate, brought on by a simple twist of fate..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a huge nerd for details, so the Marriott featured in this is actually real, and the room descriptions I took from pictures on the website. The gay bar is also a real gay bar in Lima. One more note: there are a few references to The West Wing episode King Corn in this. I'm sure no one cares about this but me, but yeah, they're in there. Also, lyrics in blockquotes do not belong to me, but to Bob Dylan (obviously).


	3. You're a Big Girl Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very, VERY heavy on dialogue. It is probably 90% dialogue. Hopefully it's good and snappy. I tried to get into Dave's psyche a bit, to show what made him the person we saw on the show, and what made him become the person we see in this fic.

"Come on," Stuart said, pulling Dave behind him into Town Dancebotique's doors.

"Christ, did we have to come here?"

"What's wrong with here?" Stuart said, feigning offense. "Do you have a problem with our people?"

"I have a problem with all people."

"That's true, David. We should work on that, don't you think? Come on!"

"Fucking hell... Here? We're gonna work on it  _here_?"

"There's people, dancing, and booze! Where better?" Stuart said, hoisting his hands in the air dramatically.

"I don't know, somewhere  _without_  the people or the dancing?" Dave shrugged.

"But you don't have a problem with the booze?"

"No. The booze can stay. Me and booze are good. We got a thing goin' on."

"Just like you and Mrs. Jones."

"Yes. We both know it's wrong, but..."

"'It's much too strong to let it go now?' I hope that's not how you feel about booze, David. If it is, we've got bigger problems than you and your interaction with humankind."

Dave laughs and ruffles his hair, the crowd making him visibly a little nervous. "Yes. I am an alchie."

"And you let me know through 70s soul?" Stuart says in a shocked tone.

"Yeah, I just thought... Wait, you know I'm joking, right?"

"Yes, Jethro. Now come on, dance with me." Stuart pulls the reluctant Dave into the crowd on the dance floor. "We're going to make you a man of the people yet."

"Fucking hell..."

* * *

 

"Hey."

"Hey."

He could feel the chill in his voice. Kurt wasn't over his treatment of him back in high school. He felt a small twinge of hope, though, as Kurt had callen him. His words had not fallen on deaf ears. "I'm glad you called me."

"Well, don't get too excited. I'm just low on funds and I wanted a drink. And hey, you offered, so..."

Dave bights his bottom lip, tapping his fingertips thrice on the bar. "Yeah, well. Still. I'm glad to do it."

"Great."

"Yeah."

They sit in a state of awkward not-talking. You couldn't really call it "silence," the thumping techno and chatter all around them saw to that. Dave sat for a moment, tapping his thumb against the wood as Kurt downed a glass of sangria Dave was paying for. Dave, unable to take their silence, decided to break it himself.

"Has this place always been here?"

"As far as I know," Kurt answered, choosing not to look at Dave as he spoke.

"Wish I would've known about it before."

"What, so you could have more victims?"

"No, not that! I just always kind of thought were the only ones here," he said, looking around at the patrons. He wondered if they had ever been through the kinds of things he'd been through, reluctant bullies, or just the bullied like Kurt?

"The only what?" Kurt asked snottily.

Dave took a deep breath, trying not to let his attitude bother him. He had every right to be angry right now, of all times. "C'mon Kurt, you know what I mean: gay guys."

"Wow, so you're a self-admitted homosexual now?" Kurt raised his eyebrows, finally looking over at him.

"I guess I am, yeah."

"That's quite the shock. I always thought you'd be one of those Republican senators who voices his support for DOMA, then gets caught getting a blowjob from some Filipino prostitute in an airport bathroom."

Dave laughs. "Nope, definitely not one of those. Oddly specific, by the way."

"It's always the same. Some old guy says all 'the gays' — and they only say 'the gays'  because they can't say 'the fags' and get away with it — are going to hell and that if we get married it will be the downfall of society. Then there's some twinkie little island boy, or he's tapping 'Bring in the Noise, Bring in the Funk' on the tiles of a LaGuardia mensroom with his 300 dollar loafers that have the little tassels on the front."

"They're not always senators. Sometimes you have your televangelists trying to join the mile-high club with a flight attendant after too many tiny bottles of Blueberry Smirnoff."

They both laugh, and it feels good to Dave. This is what he'd always wished he would've been like with Kurt. With everyone in high school, really. This was him. This was him more than any previous Slushie-throwing incarnations had ever been. His eyes met with Kurt's, a wide smile on the younger boy's face. They lingered for a moment, and Dave was glad to see him smile. The boy needed laughter, needed a smile, more than anything right now. Dave was happy to give him that breath of relief, but Kurt quickly tried to compose himself. Dave figured he didn't want to look like he was enjoying the company of his former tormentor. He watched as Kurt took another pull from his sangria, and straightened a stray hair on his forehead.

"Yeah, well, you should know all about closet cases, Karofsky," Kurt shoots at him.

 _Christ, Hummel, is there NOTHING I can do?_ , he thought. "Well, that was seven years ago. Not really a closet case anymore."

"Really? Not at all?"

"Nope."

"So everyone knows? Your friends? Your family?"

"Yep.

"Everyone you work with?" Kurt asks, thinking he finally stumped him.

Dave chuckles quietly to himself, and through a smile, "Yes. I can assure you, everyone I work with knows."

"I just find that a little hard to believe."

"Well, believe it," he sighs.

"Wow. You, out."

"Yeah. I can see how you'd have trouble-"

"It's just that, you know, you made a sport out of being a closet case, back in the day.

"I know." He is clearly not fond of his past being brought up so freely. After working so hard over the years to redeem himself, it hurts having it thrown back in his face like this.

"And it was a contact sport. I still have a scar or two to prove it."

"I'm sorry," Dave says sympathetically. And he means every word of it.

"You said that earlier." Kurt glares at him, scanning his face, appearing as if he's searching for a sign of something.

"Bears repeating. I really am. I just... I really want you to know that. I am."

"Okay, well..."

Kurt stopped in mid-sentence. Dave noticed his gaze turning to the dance floor. He didn't move to join, instead he just stared, eyes narrowed. Dave knew exactly what he was feeling. He didn't look at them with a desire to join, but with envy of their obliviousness. In this moment, they didn't know the pain a loss caused. Even if they'd experienced it, in this moment, it was distant.

* * *

 

"FUCK YOU!" It was Dave's first experience with the word. He'd heard it when his dad was watching a movie about bank robbers downstairs. He'd liked the way the word had felt on his tongue, he'd liked the emotions it carried. Anger, sadness, and meanings he was yet to understand at the time, all in one word.

He'd hated him. Tommy Miller. He'd watched him playing pirates on the jungle-gym, and he couldn't stand it, when four days earlier, he'd seen the boy at his brother's funeral. How could he play like that, be happy like that, when Mason was dead? He was jealous of this, of his ability not to feel what Dave was feeling. So Dave had let his anger get the best of him. He'd walked over to the jungle-gym, and climbed to the top where Tommy was claiming to be the ship's captain, and he punched him — this was the first punch he'd ever delivered that wasn't directed at his brother during a wrestling match in the living room floor — as he shouted those two words.

It felt good. It felt like relief. He let all his anger out on the boy as he kneeled on his chest, ramming his fists into his face with all his might.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET OFF ME, YOU JERK!" his former friend had shouted.

But Dave had remained. He'd started to cry as he whaled on him, every feeling from the past week rushing to the surface with each punch. "I HATE YOU!" he yelled through his sobs. This emotional relief made him feel like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"WHY ARE YOU CRYING, YOU BIG GIRL?" Tommy had shouted as he turned the tables and punched Dave in the nose, causing blood to come out, even though it wasn't half as much blood as was coming out of Tommy's nose, lip, and the cuts in his cheek.

This only made Dave angrier, his punches harder, before a teacher pulled him off of the other boy.

"DAVID KAROFSKY! TOMMY MILLER!" Mrs. Ellison had yelled. "We DO NOT hit each other! You can both come with me to the principal's office, now!"

* * *

 

"Are you okay?" Dave asked Kurt with genuine concern.

"I'm fine," Kurt said as he stood, rubbing his eyes with the cuff of his shirt. "I just need to get some air."

"Okay, that's fine."

Kurt walked over to the door leading out onto the patio. Once outside, the cold felt blistering, but didn't seem to be bothering the two guys making out with ferocity against a wall. Both of them appeared to be tweaked out on something.

"UGH, god, there are people everywhere."

"Usually the way it is with these bars," Dave said.

"Yeah. It was probably stupid to come here. I don't really want to go home though."

"I understand. Do you want me to get your coat from coat-check? It's cold out here. You've gotta be freezing."

Kurt looked at him quizzically. "I think I wanna go. Just drive around or something."

"Yeah, no."

"What?"

"You had two full glasses of sangria. I'm not letting you drive," Dave said with some force in his voice. He knew the damage a car could do.

"Oh, really? What are you, my..." he trailed off. Dave knew where he was going though, and he saw the pain in Kurt's eyes when he realized what he was saying. He stared at him for a moment, his face radiating sympathy.

He put his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Come on, let's go."

"Okay..." Kurt says, without putting up any fight.

 

Dave keeps his hand on Kurt's back as he walks him through the snowy parking lot.

"I'm not really drunk, you don't need to hold me steady like that."

He takes his hand away and shoves it in the pocket of his coat. "Sorry," he says, and they continue to walk towards the back of the lot. "My car's over here," Dave nods. They arrive at the small sedan, and he sees Kurt looking at the bumper stickers on the back. "OBAMA/BIDEN 2012" stickers, a sticker of the golden equal sign atop a sea of navy blue for the Human Rights Campaign, a sticker that reads "MEN FOR WOMEN'S RIGHTS", among others.

"You're just full of surprises," Kurt says as Dave unlocks the car doors.

"Is that a good thing?" Dave asks as a laugh slips his lips.

"That is yet to be seen."

Dave looks down, pulling the latch on the door, feeling slightly dejected. "Well, alright then."

They both climb in the car, Dave in the driver's seat, Kurt in the passenger.

"But at the moment, I'm  _leaning_  towards yes."

Dave smiles as he puts the car into reverse and turns the CD back on, now on track 3, "You're A Big Girl Now". 

> _Our conversation was short and sweet_  
>  It nearly swept me off-a my feet.  
>  And I'm back in the rain, oh, oh,  
>  And you are on dry land.  
>  You made it there somehow...

And through a smile he attempts to hide, his tone happier than before, "Well, alright then."


	4. Idiot Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a character who uses anti-gay slurs, I don't want to trigger anyone with that.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" he screams, throwing the brown bottle at the wall over his head, the shards raining down onto the blacktop. Beer drips down the dark brick of the convenience store, onto the other boy's jacket.

* * *

"Fireworks!" Dave exclaimed.

"I don't know. They're never as spectacular as you think they're going to be. Usually you have the grand finale and it's awesome, but it's over before it started. In minutes. It takes you longer to drive out to see them than it does to watch them."

"No way, they're always awesome. Have you ever seen them in D.C.? On the 4th of July? They're amazing. They do it over the Washington Monument, and you can see them reflected in the pool. It's amazing. Until I saw that I thought they were just something you did on the 4th when you were a little buzzed, and it was fun, but didn't really mean anything. Now, you see it like that, in the city where everything goes down, where everything happens, the nation's capitol, and it just makes you feel really awesome, really proud and patriotic. It's beautiful."

"You get that much out of fireworks?" Kurt asks, unable to completely grasp the feelings he's expressing.

"Absolutely."

"Okay, so Fireworks, they're one of your most pleasant surprises. Mine... I don't know. I don't feel like I've had that many."

"Come on, everyone's had some. Just some awesome thing that happened, even though you never expected it to. You've gotta have one."

"I don't know. My life's never really given me pleasant surprises, just unpleasantness on top of unpleasantness," Kurt shrugs.

"Come on, dude. That is so not the case."

"How do you know what my case is?"

"I've known you since high school."

"You have not  _known me_. I don't think shoving me into lockers really counts as knowing someone."

"Of course I knew you. Why do you think I acted like such a dick?" he asks rhetorically, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, not enjoying his past being brought up again.

"Well that makes me feel great. Am I that terrible?" Kurt asks, offended.

"No, it's not that. It's not your personality, it's just... You have this chip on your shoulder, for some reason unbeknownst to me," he states matter-of-factly.

"I do not have a chip on my shoulder!"

"You do. You always have. I mean, it's okay, a lot of shitty things have happened to you, but a lot of good things happened to you too."

"Like?"

"Seriously? You don't see any of the good things? Dude, your dad, for one... You had this awesome dad who gave a shit. He pushed me up against a wall because I messed with you. I came out to Azimio like a few months after you left, and kicked my ass. Do you know what my dad said? He said I probably shouldn't have told him. 'You know how teenage boys can be, David'. Your dad, he gave a shit. My dad, I don't know, he's not this terrible guy or anything, he never hit me, but he never really did anything else either. He came to my football games, he came to my hockey games, but if it was something he wasn't interested in already, he didn't really care." Dave ruffles up his hair, and starts rubbing his tongue on the edges of his teeth. "Your dad came to all your shows, even though they probably weren't really his thing, and he cheered you on. I rarely did anything in school that wasn't for my dad."

"You didn't like football or hockey?" Kurt asks.

"Not really. I don't know. I had fun sometimes, I guess, but it was never my ideal way to spend time, as much as I'd act like it was. Most of what I did in high school wasn't for me. It was all for other people, from the way I acted, to the sports I played. It was all just this show for everyone else. Then you left."

"I left and what?"

"I don't know, I started to suffocate. Not really, but like... I started to see how the way I was was affecting other people. You left because you didn't want to be near me, I got expelled, I very nearly got my ass kicked by half the Glee club. I just knew than that I had to stop being this guy who I knew I wasn't. Because I didn't like him very much."

"That's a little cliché."

Dave begins to speak through laughter. "Yeah, I guess it is, but clichés are clichés are a reason, right? I mean, you're a gay kid who's into musicals and clothes. That's pretty cliché."

"I like to consider it classic, rather than cliché, but I suppose you're correct," Kurt admits.

* * *

He clasps the door handle of the car, blood spilling from his mouth and dripping slowly to the concrete. He wipes away blood from the bridge of his nose, painting a red streak across the back of his hand. Panting, he opens the door, climbing in and sitting for a moment as he catches his breath.

"I can't believe that asshole!" the other boy says as he climbs into the car. "Are you okay?"

* * *

Dave watches as Kurt presses his forehead up against the car window, the lights of a dull Lima night reflected in the glass.

"I shouldn't have drank so much," Kurt groans. "I'm going to have the worst hangover tomorrow."

"You need water," Dave suggests.

"Do you have any?"

"No, but I can stop and get you some, and some aspirin or something. We'll stop at the next gas station."

"Thank you," Kurt smiles.

"No problem." Dave likes seeing Kurt smile. He likes seeing him more at ease around him. He still hasn't shaken the 4 years of damage he caused just yet, but he feels like he can see it slightly falling away.

They pulled into the 7-11 lot and parked at the sidewalk adjacent to the window in front of the counter.

"Be back in a second," Dave said to Kurt as he got out of the car.

"Wait, lemme give you the-"

"No, it's fine. I got it," he says, cutting Kurt off.

"Um, okay. Thank you," he smiles.

"You're welcome."

He steps out of the car and over the parking block, careful not to knock over the half empty beer bottle sitting atop it.

The bells ring as Dave entered the convenience store doors. The lights in the building reminded him of the cyan glow of the Marriott hallway. The kid sitting on a stool behind the counter seemed to be preoccupied with a copy of Alternative Press, his feet up next to the cash register. Dave walked back through aisles of candy and snack bags of potato chips to the medicine aisle. He grabbed a bottle of extra strength aspirin next to the boxes of condoms. He wasn't sure why, but he slid a box off and kept it hidden in his palm as he walked over to the wall of drink coolers. As he passed the beer cage, and opened the door containing the bottled water, he heard a voice behind him.

"Well well well, look who it is," the familiar voice called.

 _Oh fuuuuuuuuck, it_ isn't _. Can't be. No one in the whole damn world is that fucking unlucky_ , he thought to himself as he quickly grabbed a water bottle and turned to face the person the voice belonged to. Indeed, it was exactly who he thought it was: Azimio Adams, clutching a cube of Milwaukee's Best.  _Son of a bitch._

"Hey," Dave sighed. He saw the man, the same age as him, still in his McKinley letterman's jacket, and he felt a faint twinge of pity for him. That feeling, however, didn't last long.

"What you doin' here? Fag convention in town? I didn't think that kinda shit was legal here." he chuckled. He walked past Dave, making sure to hit his shoulder as hard as possible against Dave's. The impact caused the aspirin bottle and the box of condoms to the floor. He sees Azimio eyeballing the condoms, a wide smile on his face, and he knows an asinine comment is sure to follow.

"Wow, that's good, that's responsible. You don't wanna get AIDS or nothin'," Azimio says cooly as he laughs.

"You're really clever. Is that some special power tied to that jacket? If you take it off, does all that wit vanish? Kinda like Samson with his hair!" he taunted as he picked the items up off the floor.

"Who's Samson, your boyfriend? Don't hate on the jacket, motherfucker. You're just mad they made you give yours back because they were afraid you'd try to fuck somebody in the shower," Azimio jeered as he walked to the counter with his carton of cheap beer.

Dave gritted his teeth and took a gulp of air as he unwittingly clenched his fists. His fingernails dug into the skin of his palms. He rolled his eyes, and chose to take the high road, remaining silent as Azimio payed for his items.  _Fucking asshole_ , he thought to himself. Once he exited, causing the bells to ding once more, Dave walked up to the cashier, and laid his items out on the counter, the condoms face down. He didn't know why, the cashier would see them either way, but it made him feel a little less embarrassed. He responded to the cashier when asked if he'd like a bag, unsure of how he'd heard his confirmation over the loud guitars of My Chemical Romance — a band familiar to Dave from high school — coming from the teenager's earbuds. He grabbed his bag, taking the condoms out and sliding them into his pocket, and exited, the sound of the bells fading as the doors closed behind him.

He reaches for the door when he hears the same voice behind him again. "Wow, I saw him in the car, and I was like 'NO, he can't be here with that queer!' But no, looks like you are. Wow. Even more of a fag than I thought."

"You know what, why don't you just shut the fuck up? Leave him out of this," Dave growls, his taunts about Kurt beginning to send him over the edge.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you don't want me fuckin' with your boyfriend? I guess you're only allowed to do that, right?" Azimio cackles.

Kurt steps out of the car. "Is there something I can help you with, slackjaw? Nice jacket, by the way. Is it seven years ago already?"

"Oh, you wanna talk shit, Fairy Poppins? That what you want?" Azimio begins to walk towards Kurt before Dave grabs him by his jacket and stops him.

"I told you to FUCKING lay off him!" He pulls Azimio closer. "His dad just died. He doesn't need any of your bullshit tonight, so go fuck with somebody else, okay?"

"His dad died? Well that's probably his damn fault, probably caught something living with that homo," Azimio says loudly, just so Kurt can hear him.

Dave sees Kurt's expression, grief stricken and just kicked while he was down. Finally, Dave snaps, pushing Azimio against the wall next to the convenience store window. "That is IT! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" he screams as he picks up the bottle from the parking block and chucks it at Azimio. Azimio ducks, and the beer bottle barely misses hitting him square in the forehead. The putrid smell of the skunked beer fills the air as it drips down onto Azimio's jacket, a long damp stain running down the red wool on the back.

"YOU FAGGOT ASS MOTHERFUCKER!" Azimio yells as he charges towards Dave and knocks him back against the hood of his car. Dave can see terror in Kurt's face, still covered in tears from Azimio's previous dig, but his view is obstructed when Azimio's fist comes pummeling into his lip, sending blood running down the side of his face. He looks at Kurt once more before catching Azimio's wrist in mid swing, blocking his next hit. Dave sends a punch to Azimio's nose, his knuckles sore on impact.

Punches never sound as satisfying as they do in the movies, omitting a quiet POP against the skin instead of the loud THUNK heard in every action flick. Dave then kicks Azimio in the knee, bringing back an old sports injury Dave remembered him having that sends him crashing to ground. Azimio lies, writhing in pain, his hands clutched around his knee. "NEVER FUCK WITH HIM AGAIN!" Dave says, looking at Azimio and pointing behind himself to a stunned Kurt. Dave pants as he walks over and leans against the car door. He spits out a long string of blood from his mouth, and wipes away his bloody nose, but unable to escape the smell of iron. He climbs in the car and sits a moment, catching his breath as he fumbles for his keys.

Kurt climbs in the passenger side of the car. "I can't believe that asshole!" he exclaims indignantly. "Are you okay?"

Dave sniffs more blood up into his nose, trying not to appear shaken, even though he was. This was not what he wanted when he came here, and the scene was not what he wanted for Kurt. All the drama he'd tried to avoid at the funeral, only for something worse to happen later. "I'm fine," he says, trying to hide the fact that his face hurt like hell, and even worse, that this happened to Kurt.

"You look awful." Kurt says rather bluntly.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," he says sarcastically.

"I'm just saying, you should go to the hospital. Your bleeding, and you hit your head pretty hard on the hood of your car. I think I can still see a dent."

"You don't see a dent."

"I'm saying I think I can see a dent."

"There's no dent. There's not a dent. I'm fine. It was just a fight."

They sit in silence for a moment, both unaware of what to say to each other.

"My ears are ringing. I need noise," Dave says as he turns on the CD player, playing "Idiot Wind".

> _Someone's got it in for me, they're planting stories in the press_ __  
> Whoever it is I wish they'd cut it out but when they will I can only guess.  
>  _They say I shot a man named Gray and took his wife to Italy,_  
>  She inherited a million bucks and when she died it came to me.  
>  I can't help it if I'm lucky.

"Okay, that's it. I'm calling someone," Kurt says.

"What. No, you don't have to-"

"Yes. Stop arguing, I'm calling someone."

"Who are you calling?"

"A nurse."

"What? Kurt, no. I don't need to go to the hospital!" he argues.

"Did I say the hospital? No, I said a nurse. Now turn that down, I can't hear," he demands, motioning to the radio. Dave turns the knob to the left, lowering the volume, but keeping the music on lightly.

> _People see me all the time and they just can't remember how to act_  
>  Their minds are filled with big ideas, images and distorted facts.  
>  Even you, yesterday you had to ask me where it was at,  
>  I couldn't believe after all these years, you didn't know me better than that  
>  Sweet lady.

"Hey," Kurt says into the phone.

Dave wonders who he's talking to, if it's someone he knows from high school, or a new person Kurt's met since he left.

"Yeah, I'm okay... No, I'm fine. It's just I'm with someone right now, and they were in a fight, and I think they hit their head. I was wondering if you'd check them out for me... I don't know. I'm maybe a little drunk right now..."

There is a long pause, and Dave can hear the indistinguishable chatter coming from the phone.

"Okay, would you please stop talking about gender neutral pronouns now? Yes, it's a boy... No, no! He's just a friend... Yes, I would tell you if-...Seriously, sweetie! He's just a friend."

Dave's stomach jumps as he hears Kurt refer to him as 'a friend'. Has he finally warmed to him? He just got into a fight defending his honor, his life, his whatever, maybe that had finally shown Kurt that he's not the same guy who used to be. Or seeing him fight could've just confirmed that he's exactly who he used to be: a meatheaded jock who can't use words. But hey, sometimes words aren't good enough, even if they should be. Dave's mind then wanders off, thinking  _What if it's the guy from the hallway? The private school kid. Blaine, I think his name was._

"Okay, I'll see you in a few minutes... Okay. Bye. Love you." Kurt hangs up the phone and turns to Dave. "Okay, we need to go to Magnolia Crescent. Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

"Yes, I'm okay to drive. I told you, I'm fine."

"Don't be snippy, I'm just making sure!"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"I don't know."

"Okay..."

"Yeah."

* * *

The elevator opens onto the 4th floor hallway. "It's just down here," Kurt says, pointing down the hall. They stop at the last door in the corner, apartment 4D. "This is it."

"Whose place is this?" Dave asks, still worried that Blaine is going to answer the door. He hears the locks turning, and the doorknob finally starts to turn. When he sees who it is, his heart drops down into his stomach with relief, yet apprehension remained. It was someone from high school, and someone he'd given a fair amount of grief to.

"Hey, Kurt," she said sweetly.

"Hey, Mercedes. You know Dave Karofsky."

She glares at him for a moment, her eyes narrowed.

"Yeah," she says cooly. "Come on in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to mention the non-linear storytelling. I didn't want it to be clear whether you were seeing a flashback, a flashforward, or whatever until you were finished reading the chapter. Hopefully it was clear then. And yes, Magnolia Crescent is a small Harry Potter reference. I really like that street name.


	5. You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go

"So how does that sound?" Dave asked, eagerly waiting for a reaction with his hand covering the bottom of his face.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't really listening," Stuart said while dropping a pinch of cumin into the pot simmering on Dave's stove.

"Stuart!"

"Sorry, baby, but I'm kinda in the zone here!"

"I'm in the zone! That's- Why do you think I'm reading to you what I- and please don't call me baby. It weirds me out!"

Stuart laughs, his eyes never looking up from his cooking.

"I'll make a mental note of that."

"You should know, it's been six months now."

"I'm not a mind reader, David. Have you told me you don't like to be called that?"

"I.. Yeah, fine. But seriously, if you could just listen to me while I-"

"Okay, okay! Go again. Come on, hit me," he cuts Dave off as he darts to the cabinet, gathering more spices from the spice rack inside.

"I feel like hitting you sometimes," he mutters under his breath.

"Do I need to get my bat?" Stuart asks sarcastically.

"Dave rolls his eyes. "I'm not serious."

"Oh my god. Yes, David. I know. Thou hath gone through many changes. You've told me this. I don't actually think you're going to hit me. Besides, what makes you think that if you did hit me, you'd win?"

"Good. I'm not. I mean, it's a struggle sometimes when you-" he shrugs sarcastically.

"Well you just suppress that urge, baby! You suppress it right down!" Stuart says with sass in his tone.

Dave grins. "You're not very good at remembering your mental notes. You made that one, what, 10 seconds ago?"

"Well you won't shut up! How am I supposed to remember anything when you won't stop talking! My brain can only hold a certain number of words."

Dave laughs. He enjoys their banter, their sarcastic back and forth, though sometimes he worries that that's all sustaining their relationship. "I'm just going to read this to you before this goes any further."

"Okay, good, let's go. Talk politico to me!" Stuart says, pretending to swoon, going weak at the knees and clutching his chest, his voice breathy, making him sound falsely turned on.

"Alright, okay. Here goes," Dave says, taking a deep breath, preparing to dive into the words on his computer screen. " _As I stand here today, on this day of remembrance, I look out at all the faces before me, and I am reminded what we're fighting for. For so long we have been told that we are not enough, that we are not deserving, that we are not equal... As I look out at all of you, it confirms just how false these statements are. All of you here, all of_ us  _here, are people, deserving of love the same as the next person. No longer will we be told that we are not deserving of that love, that we are less than anyone else. We are all equals, no matter who we love, no matter the way we were born. We are all equals, deserving of the rights our free society grants us, and we will not let anyone who claims themselves superior take that away from us. As we stand here, on Harvey Milk Day, hundreds of miles away from where the man fought his battles, and was killed because of his beliefs, we will stand in remembrance_ _of him, and we will continue fighting. 'You've gotta give 'em hope' he once said, and we will not give up that hope for anyone. Not now, not ever._ "

Dave finishes, and looks down, nervous of Stuart's impending reaction. He bites his lip and sighs. "Well... What do you think?"

* * *

"Come on in," she says. It wasn't the warmest invitation he'd ever received. He felt like he was stepping into some sort of trap, but pushed the feelings aside, reminding himself that one of them had spent most of the day surrounded by those wishing condolences, and the other probably didn't care enough about him, one way or the other. He stepped past the rug sitting on the small patch of tile in front of the door, and looked at the shows sitting adjacent to it as a sign that his should be removed as well. He bent down and removed them, sitting them next to a pair of men's dress shoes.

He watches as Mercedes throws her arms around Kurt. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine."

"No you're not, but do you think you will be? Do I need to...?"

"No, really Mercedes. I'm gonna be okay. I just need not to think about it right now."

"Okay, well, if you need anything, just call me. We'll be here."

"Thank you. I will."

"I love you."

Dave starts to feel like he's impeaching on a very private moment, and he diverts his eyes, paying attention instead to the huge record collection lining the wall around the television. "I love you too," Kurt says.

"So..." She pauses, looking over at Dave but clearly addressing Kurt. "This is the 'friend' you needed my help with?"

Dave could feel the awkward tension all around him, and he hated the feeling of regression being back here, around all the people he used to know, caused him. He didn't like feeling the things he'd felt in high school, he didn't like worrying so much about what everyone was thinking about him. He always felt it, no matter where he was, but it had never been this bad since high school. Perhaps it was because he felt he had something to prove to these people, that he was no longer the repressed asshole he once was, or maybe it was just nerves, being in a place that was once called home that no longer seems familiar.

"Yes, this is the friend," Kurt answers.

"Um, okay... Why?" She turns to Dave. "No offense!" she quickly corrects. "I just mean... You know."

"Yeah. No it's fine. I'm fine. We didn't really need to-"

"Yes, we did!" Kurt snips at him. "You could be concussed."

"I'm not concussed. I'm fine. Look, two fingers," he says holding them up.

"What, is that supposed to mean something?"

"Just come in here," Mercedes says softly, leading him to the kitchen. "Kurt, you can watch TV or something if you want," she says in a tone that does really sound like an offer so much as a demand. "Just don't turn the volume up too loud. Anthony is sleeping." Kurt obeys, staying behind as she ushers Dave into the brighter room.

Her kitchen is small, but homey. Shelves circle the room, reminding Dave slightly of the kitchen on Friends, only much more yellow. He looks at a wicker bowl, filled with keys, sitting on the bar separating the room from the dining area on the other side. Mercedes grabs a small flashlight sitting next to the bowl on the bar. "Okay, I need to check your pupils, just take a seat here." She motions over to a small two person table against the kitchen side of the bar. Dave pulls out the white chair and sits. Mercedes takes the seat in front of him and clicks on the flashlight. "Okay, so, I'm going to shine this in yours eyes, and I want you to follow the light, okay?"

"Sure."

"You played football and hockey, so I'm sure you've done this before. I just need to see how your-"

"Pupils react to light. Yeah. I always hate this part, I can never get the spots out of my eyes."

Mercedes laughs, something Dave has never heard before, and he hates he's wasted so much time without hearing it. He appreciates a could laugh, and this one is a great one. Infectious was the perfect word to describe it, a smile growing on Dave's face just from the sound of it that carried over the low volume of some old 70s game show rerun on at 1 o'clock in the morning that was coming from the living room.

"You have a nice laugh," Dave says to her. She smiles, looking slightly embarrassed by the compliment.

"Oh God, no I don't," she huffs. "I sound like some horse who's smoked too many menthol lights."

This time they both laugh, and he sees Mercedes look at him.

"And you have a nice smile. Kinda surprises me."

"Why does that surprise you?"

"I don't know. I never really saw you do anything but scowl. Maybe it was just hard to see through all the purple ice in my face."

The past again. Couldn't it just die? "Yeah. Sorry. I know I was a dick. You probably hate that I'm even here right now."

"Nah, it's fine. Jesus said we should forgive everyone. Everybody deserves a second chance. I'm just a little surprised that you're here with Kurt. He's not really the forgiveness type, most of the time. He gets a grudge and he holds on pretty tight."

"He told you what I did?" Dave asks, heat rushing to his cheeks as his head drops down to the view of the kitchen tiles.

"Look up," she says tilting up his chin. She moves the flashlight, and Dave follows the cold white LED light back and forth again. "He didn't need to tell us. Everybody knew. Especially after you got into a fight with half the Glee club."

"You knew?"

"We'd hear about it from other people. We never really saw it, but we knew it was happening."

"You knew it was- Wait, what?"

"What? We knew you were always pushing him around. Mr. Schue saw you take that thing from him that one time, plus he always had dirt on his ass from being on the floor," she said. His stomach churned.  _GOD, WHY WAS I SUCH A DICK?_  "And if you know Kurt, you know that kind of thing doesn't happen at his own accord."

"So that's all you know?"

"Yeah. Hold on a sec, I just need to get some stuff from the bathroom," she says as she walks out of the room. She returns quickly, holding cotton balls, band-aids, and a bottle of antiseptic. "It doesn't look like you have a concussion, but these cuts look pretty bad, so I'm just gonna clean you up a little, if that's alright. It'll probably sting a little, but you're a big boy, I think you can take it," she smiles. She unscrews the bottle of antiseptic and pours some onto a cotton ball. "What else dd you do to him?"

"Huh?"

"You acted like there was something else. 'So that's all you know'."

"Oh, uh, yeah. I uh..." She blots his busted lip with the q-tip, and, as he winces, he notices for the first time a ring on her finger. "Hey, you're married!"

She smiles and laughs softly again. "Yep. One year last September."

"Congratulations!"

"Thank you," she giggles.

"So, did you take his name, or is it still Jones?"

"Vasquez."

"Well, that's awesome. I'm happy for you."

"It's pretty great, I have to say," she says with a wide smile on her face, the happiness radiating. Dave knows she isn't lying. "So... Are you seeing anyone? I don't see a ring, so I figure you're not..."

"Married? No. I... Yeah, I can't get married."

Mercedes looks at him curiously, furrowing her brow as she continues to blot away blood. Dave was getting used to the sting by now. "Why is that?" she asks.

"Um, yeah..." He wonders if he should just come out and tell her, and he decides:  _Yes, I'm proud of who I am. No reason to keep it a secret from anyone._  "I'm not legally allowed."

Mercedes looks shocked as she steps back from him. "Woah, wait. Does that mean you're...?"

"Gay? Yep. Card carrying homosexual since 1993."

"Wait, okay, so all this time you messed with Kurt, you were...?"

"Yep."

"Kurt seems pretty drunk right now," she says, nodding over the bar to Kurt, still watching a game show on the living room couch. "You're not trying to...?" she says. Dave can tell she's not actually serious, and this relieves him.

"Get him drunk? No. I just figured he could use a drink."

"Yeah. I feel awful for him. I don't know. I've never really been through anything like that before."

"Uh, yeah. I have, I guess..."

"You've lost a parent?"

"Not a parent, a brother," he says softly.

"Wow. I didn't know that."

"Don't really talk about it much." Dave's voice becomes more somber as he speaks. "I was 7. I know it's not the same as losing a parent, especially as an adult, but you know... I can kinda... I've lost a lot of people."

"I'm sorry. The only people I've ever known who died were my grandparents, and they were all in their 90s, so it wasn't really unexpected. It was always kind of a relief." She pauses and winces at the statement she just made. "God, that sounds terrible. I don't mean... It's just... You know, they're always in pain at the end, or they can't do things on their own anymore.

"It's just kinda like, you know, they probably don't wanna be here anymore. My grandma was alive until she was 96. That's a  _long_  time? It can't be easy. Especially when all your friends are dead and... It's gotta be a relief. Not to me, to  _them_ , I mean. I guess to me too, though, yeah, because I don't want my grandma to feel like that, you know? She's my grandma. I want her to be happy. Maybe she'll be happier in heaven, or wherever we go. Even if we just stop. I don't think we do, but you know, Kurt does. Maybe it's just better. To stop. To just end."

"I understand. Sometimes I feel like it'd be better just to end anyway. 25 years is a long time too. It's not 96, but sometimes it feels like it. It's longer than most marriages," he says before really thinking. He looks at Mercedes' ring again, and apologizes. "Sorry. I don't mean... You know, it's just..."

"Don't worry," she smiles at him.  _God, how can a person be this happy, be_  this nice  _to a person who treated her like shit for 4 years?_ "Yeah, I know the statistics. Trust me, my mom made them abundantly clear to me after I got engaged. She got divorced that year, so she was kinda... apprehensive about it. Then, at least. She didn't really trust men. She's happy I'm happy now, though. At least I think she is."

"I'm sure she is." Dave's thought wander off the living room and the boy watching the game show on the couch at 1:30 in the morning.

"Something wrong?" she asks, noticing his trance-like silence.

"What? Oh. No. Sorry... I just-" he trails off. "I just can't believe he didn't tell you."

"Wait, what?  _He_ knew?"

Now he's wishing he wouldn't have brought it up. It only leads to a story painful for both of them.

"Yeah. He... I- I kind of kissed him. Once,"

Mercedes eyes widen and her jaw damn near drops to the floor. "WHAT? You... Wait. No. What? When?"

"Um, it was before he transferred. It... I think... I think it was part of  _why_  he transferred. I mean. I know the incident in particular wasn't why, but sort of... the fallout. My fallout. Or what I did because of it. Or not that really, but-" he stammers.

"Slow down. I'm still trying to get past the part where you kissed him. He left because of that? And that little asshole never told me? I should punch him."

He huffs out a small chuckle. "Don't do that. I think I've already put him through enough."

"Wow. So, you kissed Kurt..."

"Yeah. I did."

"I can't really blame you. He's cute and everything. I thought we were dating for a while. Then I threw a brick through his windshield," she states matter-of-factly.

"A brick?" Dave laughs. "Jesus."

"Yeah. Not one of my finer moments," she shrugs. "So... Your pushing him into lockers and stuff. That was because you kissed him? I don't really get it."

"Well, no, that kinda happened first. I couldn't handle  _me_ , who I was, and... I don't know, he made everything worse, because I felt like I couldn't not look at him. Just... I was jealous, because he was so proud of who he was, and he had all of you guys in Glee club, and then here was me, in the closet with no one but me and everything I was afraid of. It's like... I couldn't get away from every bad thought I had. So I took it out on him, when I really just wanted to beat the shit out of  _me_. I know it probably sounds weird, but yeah.

"Every time I pushed him down... I pushed me down with him. After a while I couldn't get up, and then he confronted me. He told me I was just a scared little boy who couldn't stand how extraordinarily ordinary I was — which was a terrible phrase by the way, I know I always acted stupid, but I'm actually a decent writer, I guess. People tell me I am. I don't know. But 'extraordinarily ordinary'? Come on. I know that's not the point or anything. I'm just saying... Sorry, tangent.

"Anyway, it just... Before that he said I couldn't punch the gay out of him, and that just... it kind of hit me. What I'm doing is ridiculous. So I decided 'fuck it' and I did what I wanted to do, and I let myself, my true self, out for the first time in my entire fucking life, and I kissed him. And christ, it was just... I don't know. It was amazing for me. And I wanted to kiss him again, and I thought maybe he'd want to kiss me too, because if it felt that good for me... So I went to kiss him again, and he pushed me away. And I just... I saw him. I saw his face.

"I came out of this euphoric haze I was in, and I saw his face, and he was looking at me like I was... I don't know, a bear about to attack him or something. And it just  _hurt_ , a lot. But I didn't want to hurt him anymore, so I just punched the shit out of a locker, and I left. I didn't really plan to do anything to him anymore. I was just going to stay away from him for the rest of the year, then I was going to get the hell out of there- Or here, I guess, since I'm here now. I don't really think of this as my 'here' anymore.

"But yeah, I was going to stay away from him for the rest of my high school life, then bolt. But then, like a day later, I was walking down the hall, and there he is with this guy - A good looking guy, I'm not going to lie - and I just felt jealous again, but it was different this time, because I wasn't jealous of Kurt, I was jealous of the guy.

"Then shit just got really messed up, because the guy decided to talk to me about how hard it is coming to terms with who you are, and being gay, and he's doing this in front of fucking everyone, and I'm just like 'FUCK, DUDE, STOP, SOMEONE IS GOING TO HEAR YOU' and I was pissed that Kurt told someone, I mean, I trusted him, and the first thing he did was tell some stranger. I mean, maybe he was a good guy who really wanted to help me, but I don't know. I didn't know him, you know? I saw he was in this private school jacket, and I thought that maybe he was some rival school glee kid or something, and this was all part of his, I don't know, master plan or whatever.

"I remember seeing that Jesse kid throw eggs at Rachel Berry, after he dated her for like 4 months, so I thought maybe this was somehow his way of throwing eggs at Kurt. He was going to out me in front of everyone. That didn't happen, though, and then...

"I just... Like I said, I was in the closet, just me and my thoughts, 24 hours a day, every damn day of the week, and I'm just going through all of these scenarios in my head. 'What if he tells Mr. Schuester and he tells that guidance counselor woman, and then she calls my parents and tells them and my dad beats the shit out of me or kicks me out or something?' I mean, my dad... He was never this huge abusive dick or anything. He just... I don't know, he was him. He was an old guy, and he always called these athletes fags when they did something wrong, so I just kind of figured that if I was a 'fag' then... It'd be like that, you know?

"So I just played this all over and over again in my head, and I was fucking terrified all the time, and I thought about Kurt, and the Blaine guy, and I was jealous all at the same time as I was terrified, and... So I fucked with him again, because it just all came down on me, and I didn't know who I was, or what I was doing, and it felt like it was never gonna change.

"So I reacted like I did, and I made everything worse for him, and I knew he was scared of me, and I saw the way he'd look at me. It sucked. I wanted... I wanted him to be this person I could talk to, and I wanted to be this person he could care about, but it all got so bogged down in this closeted, terrified, shadowy bullshit, that I just... I lost everything about who I knew I really was. And I cared about status and everyone being afraid of me, because if they were afraid of me, maybe they would do their best not to even notice me at all, not to ever even look my way, and if they didn't, maybe they'd never find me out. Like it was some terrible thing.

"Who I was  _then_ , that's what was terrible, and my vision was just so clouded by everything else that I didn't see that. Or I did, but I didn't have any idea about how to stop it. It was just always in motion, this total snowball effect. More times than I care to remember, I'd swallow a bottle of pills just to get scared and make myself puke them up... God, why am I sitting here, telling you all this?" He laughs and rubs away his misty eyes, unsure of how long the tears had been there.  _What the hell? When did I start crying?_

"It's okay," Mercedes says, and Dave feels incredibly grateful to her for just letting him talk.

"Thank you. I mean... Wow, I just unloaded, like, an entire Greek tragedy out on you," he says. "Thank you. For letting me talk. It's... I don't know. I know I don't really deserve you sitting here and just... Yeah. Thank you. Thank you."

"You're pretty messed up aren't you?" Mercedes says, smiling, her eyebrows raised.

"Ha! Yeah, you noticed?"

"A little bit. C'mere." She stretches out her arm for him to give her a hug, and he accepts the offer.

"This feels good," he says with his arms wrapped around her. "I'm sorry I treated you like shit. I don't deserve this right now."

"Yes you do. You're just a person. We all deserve love."

Feeling this accepted in a place that was once hell for him makes Dave feel strange, in the very best way. It may not replace bad memories, but he can't help but feel it soften them. The world moves on, and the people move with it.

"What the hell?" says a deep voice from living room. "Who are you hugging?"

Dave looks over at the man, a tall, handsome guy with shaggy black hair, and he knows this is Mercedes husband.

"Hey," Mercedes says to him. "You're awake."

"I am," he says groggily. "Now, why are you hugging strange men in our kitchen?"

Mercedes laughs as she walks over to him. "This is Dave Karofsky. I want to high school with him." He's Kurt's... friend, I guess."

"Oh, Kurt's friend. Okay then. Hey," he says to Dave.

"Hi. I'm Dave."

"Anthony." He extends his hands and they shake. Introductions have always felt so strange to Dave. Such a small gesture, but ultimately they're always incredibly important. Even if you never saw the person again, they'd always be a part of your life, a part of your past.

"Are those your records?" Dave says, gesturing over to the shelves against the wall. He notices that Kurt is asleep on the couch, the Game Show Network still playing softly on the TV.

"They are."

"Awesome. I like vinyl. Nothing else sounds the same," Dave tells him.

"Oh Jesus, here we go..." Mercedes sighs.

"Right?" Anthony exclaims, throwing his hands up in front of him. "Music is alive. If you listen, you can hear it. But you can't if you listen all these CDs and MP3s, all that digital shit. You have to listen to a record. You can hear it, all of it. Every little crackle, every little pop..."

"What about Snap?" Mercedes rolls her eyes. But her

"When you listen to a record, you know which song is someone's favorite, just by listening to how scratched that one part of the album is. Records, like people, get weathered, they have hang ups, they get messed up, but beauty still comes out of them," Anthony quickly spews excitedly. "What's an album you like?"

Dave thinks, and his mind goes to the CD that's been in his car stereo all night. "Uh, Dylan, Blood On the Tracks?"

"Yes! Amazing album! Have you ever listened to it on vinyl?"

"I haven't," Dave responds.

Anthony bounces excitedly as Dave answers, and rushes over to the shelf, and flips through the albums in a shelf marked with a "B" Scrabble tile glued on to the wood. He pulls out the maroon portrait of Bob Dylan, the cover of Blood On the Tracks, takes the record out, setting it on the turntable and popping down the needle. He grabs a large pair of headphones hanging on a hook on the side of the shelf, plugs them in, and hands them to Dave. "Now, I have to get up in like 3 hours, so I'm going to go back to bed. Listen to this on vinyl. You're gonna feel it come truly alive for the first time. It's just... Okay! Yeah. Enjoy."

"Thank you, yeah, I will. Awesome."

"Okay. Good night, I guess," Anthony says as he walks down the hall into the bedroom.

"G'night," Dave replies as he slips on the headphones, "Tangled Up in Blue" crooning into his ear. He listens as the song picks up, and transitions into "Simple Twist of Fate". He looks over at Kurt, still asleep. He wonders how long he's been like that, and if he'd heard anything he said to Mercedes. He hopes he hasn't. He wants to tell him these things himself, when the time is right. The track fades out, and now he's back at the soft opening of "You're A Big Girl Now" and he's taken back to Kurt getting into his car the first time. He ponders how much he enjoys Kurt's company, even when Kurt's using him as a verbal punching bag. He doesn't know why, but simply being around him makes Dave feel alive. "Idiot Wind" ends, and now Dave is listening to "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go" for the first time that night.

> _I've seen love go by my door_  
>  It's never been this close before  
>  Never been so easy or so slow.  
>  Been shooting in the dark too long  
>  When somethin's not right it's wrong  
>  Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go.

Sure enough, Dave automatically knows this song has been played the most. It cracks, scratches, and skips ever few seconds, and while Dave thinks it should probably lessen the experience, he can't help but feel the life that Anthony was talking about in every little flaw. The music is alive, and it's fucked up just like every other living thing.

> _Purple clover, Queen Anne lace,_  
>  Crimson hair across your face,  
>  You could make me cry if you don't know.  
>  Can't remember what I was thinkin' of  
>  You might be spoilin' me too much, love,  
>  Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go.

He's looking at Kurt, lost in the song when Kurt begins to drift awake.

"Hey," Dave says to him as he stretches, pushing his legs against the floor. "You've been asleep for a while now."

"Oh... What time is it?" he asks, his voice weak and groggy.

"Like 2:30. Anthony let me listen to this record."

"Is it  _alive_?" Kurt says, obviously having heard Anthony's feelings on records before.

Dave laughs as he answers. "Yeah, it is. It's kind of amazing, really."

"Oh no, not you too. Are you some nerdy audiophile like Anthony who thinks that everything just  _sounds better_ on some old record from 1977?"

He smiles. "A little."

"What are you listening to?"

"Dylan."

"Who?"

"Bob Dylan."

"Oh, my dad likes... um...  _liked_  him," Kurt corrects somberly. "Wow, past tense. Really weird to get used to."

"I'm sorry. You wanna-"

"I want to listen," Kurt interrupts quickly.

"To this?"

"Yes."

"Okay, um... Here you go." Dave takes off the headphones off and hands them over to Kurt, the spiral cord stretch over the coffee table, but Kurt moves over and sits next to Dave on the floor by the speakers.

"You get an ear, I get an ear," Kurt says as he puts the headphones back on, and flips over the headphone on his side to face him.

"Okay," Dave says awkwardly, as Kurt leans over close to him to press his ear against the speaker. They're heads are almost touching, and it makes Dave's palms start sweating.

"You've been listening to this all night."

"Yeah. It's one of my favorites."

"I like this one. It's softer than the other ones," he says.

> _Situations have ended sad,_  
>  Relationships have all been bad.  
>  Mine've been like Verlaine's and Rimbaud.  
>  But there's no way I can compare  
>  All those scenes to this affair,  
>  Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go.

"So, hey, listen... Um, I hope you don't get mad or anything, but I heard... I heard you talking to Mercedes before I fell asleep." Kurt turns his head and looks over at Dave, their faces so close that Dave can feel Kurt's breath on his cheek. "Or I think I did. Maybe it was just one of those dreams that seems really real when you wake up, but... I'm pretty sure-"

"You did. What... Um... W-what did you hear?" he sheepishly asks him, scared to hear the answer.

"I heard you say that... when you kissed me, you saw the way I looked at you. Like I was scared."  
"Oh... Yeah. That... I mean... You... I don't want you to feel weird, it's just..." Dave stammers, unable to find the words. He wonders why it is that when he writes, words come to him like they're no big thing, but when he's trying to talk, to really talk, his vocabulary diminishes to nothing. "I just don't want you to feel weird about it... Or bad. I mean, you shouldn't, you know? You... I was... I was a dick, that's why you looked like that, and I know that."

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, or messed you up more. I'm sorry about bringing Blaine there... I just... I thought it was a good idea. He told me he thought it was too, and now, I get how absolutely moronic it was, but at that time, I thought I was helping you."

"It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway. We... Things are different for both of us now. High school's over. Just... We can let it be in the past." Dave can no longer hear the song. Now the sound of the needle bouncing back and forth at the end of the record is all that's coming through the headphones.

Kurt is looking at him, and he at Kurt. Their breath mingles together with the two of them in such close proximity as their breathing becomes shallow and fast. He feels the warmth as Kurt leans in closer to him, and he feels as Kurt's nose brushes past his, and their lips meet. They're as soft as he remembers, only this time they're open, with Dave's in between them. His eyes drifts closed, and they slightly break apart, and Kurt cups Dave's face in his hand, rubbing his thumb against Dave's ear. Dave nearly gets lost in him, but softly pushes him back before they go any further.

"Woah, woah, woah, what are you doing?" Dave asks quickly, regaining his composure.

"I just thought... You've been so nice to me tonight, I thought... Do you not want to..." Kurt trails off.

"No. I mean, yeah, but no. I mean, you've been drinking, and you're sad. I don't want... I've thought about this. A lot. I mean, I've been thinking about this since we were teenagers. It's not that I don't want to. Its' just... The first time, it was so messed up, and it was hell for both of us after, and I don't want... If we're going to do it again, I want it to be right."

Kurt takes a deep breath, and stands up, grabbing his coat and heading towards the door. "Wow. Um, okay. I'm sorry. I... I'm gonna go. This was a mistake."

"Kurt, wait. Where are you going?"

"I don't know, but I just need to go," he says quickly as he opens the door, slides on his coat, and heads towards the freight elevator at the end of the hall with haste.

Dave grabs his coat and turns the record player off. He locks the apartment door behind him, and runs after Kurt, but the elevator is already closed and moving. "SHIT!"

A woman peaks out of apartment 4B and looks around the hallway, her eyes landing on Dave. "Could you PLEASE keep it down?" she yells in a whisper.

"Sorry," he responds before darting down the steps. As he reaches the bottom, the elevator already has, and Kurt has exited the building. He looks around the street, Kurt nowhere to be found. He feels the shift as he searches, the night, like a record, spinning ever forward even after it's reached the end, and here Dave was, at the end of side one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a huge fan of the end of this chapter. It's kinda sloppy and contrived, but I just could NOT figure out how to end it, even though I know where it's going.


	6. Meet Me in the Morning

"Hey, it's Kurt, leave me a message after the beep, and it better be  _fabulous_!" Voicemail again.

"Hey, Kurt. Um, it's me. If you could call me back, that'd be fantastic. We need to talk, and I'm worried about you tonight, so if you could just call me back and let me know where you are, I can come get you, or I can come there, whatever... Okay. Thanks. Bye. Oh, It's Dave, by the way. I said me, but you probably don't know my voice by now, so... Yeah, it's Dave. Me is Dave." He hangs up the phone. "'Me is Dave'? Jesus!"

He drives through the Lima streets, mostly dead in the middle of the night. He thumbs at the radio as the white noise of turning wheels begins to unnerve him, as if he can hear is own blood flowing through his veins. He presses the play button, and skips over to track 6 of the CD in the car stereo, track 1 of side 2 of the record he'd just listened to in Mercedes' apartment. The song begins to rush his mind into the realm of memories, all of them connecting together like constellations in the skies of night.

* * *

Dave sat at a table surrounded by his coworkers, all of them chattering about new UN sanctions against anti-gay crime.

"It still doesn't cover transgendered people," Dave's friend Sam stated.

"Do you think it really needs to though? Are there that many trans people in Timbuk-whereverthefuck?" This time it was his friend Lyle.

"First of all, 'Timbuk-whereverthefuck?', Lyle? Really? C'mon. Second, who gives a shit how many there are? If there's one,  _one_ , they need to be protected. Wherever they are. I don't care if it's in the Sudan or motherfucking Amsterdam. You can't just exclude them because they're a vast minority. That's exactly why you have to  _in_ clude them."

Dave wasn't paying much attention to the conversation, instead, he looked around at the trendy décor of the restaurant. Pop art was hanging on the wall, and all the furniture was 60s mod that looked like it was stolen from the set of Mad Men. Between that, and the blue lights, he felt like he was sitting in an incredibly gay futuristic version of the Starship Enterprise.

"David?" Sam asked him.

"Huh?"

"Sorry. We're talking shop on your birthday," she replies. "SHOTS!"

"Shit, Sam. Don't scream at people!" he laughs.

"You're 23, we need to get you good and drunk!" she exclaims.

"We or you? Sam, are you trying to get me drunk?" he playfully asks.

"Yes. I want your body. I want it. All over top of me. Like a hollandaise sauce on a... I don't know, whatever you put hollandaise sauce on."

"Asparagus," a man's voice says from behind them. "Hi, Welcome to Caden's. I'm Stuart. I'll be your waiter this evening."

Dave was immediately taken with him, noticing his dark blonde hair, his cool blue eyes, framed by horn rimmed glasses, and hair that looked messy but probably took an hour in the mirror to get just right. He was thankful he spent that time, because everything about him worked for Dave. As he stood before his table, reading off a list of specials, the Dylan song playing over the speakers transitioned into the drum beats of The Decemberists' "Here I Dreamt I Was An Architecht". One of Dave's favorites.

"Hey, The Decmeberists!" Stuart exclaims. "I love this song."

Dave looks up at him, a grin stretched across his face. Cute  _and_  he likes good music. "You know The Decemberists?"

"Yeah, I love 'em. I went to New York to see them play at the Beacon last September."

"Awesome! I saw them at the 9:30 a few months ago. They were amazing."

"I tried to get tickets to that, but they were sold out!" Stuart throws out his arms.

"Yeah, I got mine like the day they went on sale."

"Okay, this is great, you guys and your hipster music, but can we order now?" Sam interrupted.

"Sorry! Yeah, what can I get for you guys tonight?" Stuart asks them.

Dave smiled at Stuart, and Stuart smiled back. He was unsure whether they were flirting, or each just happy to find someone else interested in the same music, but Dave felt like it was more than the latter. At least he hoped it was.

* * *

Dave walks into his apartment, fully expecting emptiness, but when he turns the key and walks in, lights are on, and a Josh Ritter song is playing on the iPod Dock in the kitchen.

 

> _I had a dream last night_   
>  _I dreamt that I was swimming_   
>  _And the stars up above_   
>  _Directionless and drifting_   
>  _Somewhere in the dark_   
>  _Were the sirens and the thunder_   
>  _And around me as I swam_   
>  _The drifters who'd gone under_

He is immediately hit with the aroma of food wafting through his apartment.

"Hey, you're back," Stuart calls as he steps out to see him in the living room.

"Yeah... I'm back."

* * *

Dave heard the sound of a glass bowl being tapped with a spoon growing closer and closer through the Gayship Enterprise. Clapping followed. He turned and saw a group of waiters, Stuart included, coming towards his table. Stuart led the way, with a heaping bowl of ice cream topped with Oreo cookies in hand, a single sparkler candle sticking out of it. The group of waiters began to sing, all of Dave's co-workers laughing, Sam especially hard. Dave gave Sam the finger, and reddened as everyone's attention began to turn to him and the singing staff.

 _"Happy happy birthday_  
 _From the Camden's crew!_  
 _We wish it was our birthday_  
 _So we could party too!"_ they sang, finishing off with an exclamation of _"Hey! Happy Birthday!"_

The rest of the waiters, save for Stuart, went back to their respective sections. "Hey, guys, let me know if I can get you anything else, and you," he turned to Dave. "You have a happy birthday!" he said, putting one hand on Dave's shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and another down on the table. As he turned to walk away, Dave noticed that in the spot where his hand had rested on the table, a business card was now laying. He picked up the card, and on the face of it, written in pen, were the words "You're cute. Give me a call – Stuart" and a phone number. Dave smiled, picking up the paper, attempting to slide it in his pocket.

"What's that?" Sam asked quickly and curiously, trying to grab it from his hand, but Dave pulled back quicker than she could reach.

"It's nothing."

"Bullshit, what is it?"

Dave turned around, and saw Stuart walking back into the kitchen. Before entering, Stuart turned to him, locked eyes, and they both smiled.

"Nothing. It's just a phone number."

Everyone at the table begins to WOO. "David got a phone number!" Sam says, ruffling his hair. Everyone laughs as he blushes, grinning from ear to ear..

* * *

He walked through his apartment door, 3:15 in the afternoon, and Stuart was on their couch reading a book with a girl's face on the cover. Dave could hear Iron & Wine's "Sodom South Georgia" coming from the earbuds in Stuart's phone. "What are you doing here?" Dave asked.

Stuart looked up, put a marker in his book and pulled the headphones from his ears. "Hey. Class was canceled today, and I don't have to go into work until 5," he answered. "Why are you here? You don't get off work until 5:00."

"They, uh... They sent me home," he sighed, pushing his hair back as he paced around the living room.

"What's wrong?" but Dave wouldn't stop moving long enough to pay attention. "Hey, hey!" he said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "What's wrong, David?"

"It's... I don't know. Nothing. No. It's stupid. Don't worry about it. No. Shit. Fuck. It's not stupid. I need to... SHIT!" he yelled as he sent his fist clambering into the red living room wall.

"Woah, woah! Hey. Come on, now." Stuart wrapped his arms around Dave, and rested his chin on his shoulder. "Don't freak out. Tell me what's going on. That's what I'm here for. You can tell me anything. What's wrong?"

"It's just... Uh. Somebody died, and-" Dave saw Stuart's concern, and quickly spoke as not to worry him. "It's not anyone you know or we're related to or anything. It's just... It's a... um... friend, I guess. From high school. His dad died."

Stuart took a huge sigh of relief. "Oh. Holy shit, David! Don't fucking scare me like that okay? Jesus."

"Well, sorry, Stuart, I didn't mean to worry you!" he said defensively.

"Don't snap at me!" he shot back.

"Well you... Yeah. Okay."

"I mean, you just told me somebody died. I thought it was somebody... I don't know, I thought maybe it was like Sam or your mom or something. Don't snap at me for..."

"I know. I know. I'm sorry," he said, placing his forehead against Stuart's. "I just don't know what to do."

"What do you mean 'what to do'? It's just a friend from high school. Do you even talk to your friends from-" He stopped mid-sentence, and Dave saw the realization on his face. "Oh..."

"Yeah."

Stuart stepped back and crossed his arms, his brow narrowed as he put together the pieces. "So, it's the guy you told me about. The one you used to..."

"Yeah."

"His dad died?"

"Yeah."

"And you're freaking out about it."

"Yeah," Dave sighed.

"Wow. So, um, he's the kid you... Wow. Um, Okay. How did you find out?"

"My mom called me."

"Oh." Stuart began to realize the gravity of the situation. "Well, okay then." he said, slightly dejected. "God, David."

"What? Stuart, he-"

"He's some kid you used to fuck with in high school because you had a crush on him? I don't get why this is such a big fucking deal for  _you_ , unless-"

"Stop!"

"No, really. Why do you care? You know what, just... Just... Go. Go. Just pack up your shit and go. I'm gonna get some stuff and stay with Maggie tonight, after work. You can pack up and go then."

"Stuart!"

"No, it's fine. It's fine. Just go. Go home."

"Why are you like this"

"BECAUSE YOU LIKE THIS GUY, DAVID! Because you  _fucking_  like this guy. God, he was your first kiss and you're still not fucking over him. BECAUSE YOU LIKE THIS GUY! That's why I'm like this!"

"HIS DAD DIED, STUART! He... That was the ONLY parent he had. That's  _it_. And he's dead. Do you know what it's like to lose somebody you care about like that? Do you get it? Because I fucking get it, Stuart. I get it. I've been there, and if I can go there, and if I can help him? I'm gonna fucking do it. I fucked with him so much, damn, this is the very fucking  _least_  I could possibly do."

"You did all that shit to him, do you really think he's gonna want you there? Whatever. Just go."

"Fine."

"Fine!" Stuart said, grabbing his jacket from the coatrack in the entryway, and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

The dial tone pulsed in his ear, the short wait for someone on the other end of the line to pick almost insufferable. Finally, he heard the click of connection. "Hello?" the voice on the other end of the line said.

"Um. Hi. Hi. Is this Stuart?"

"This is. Is this..."

"Dave. From the restaurant. Hey."

"Hi, Dave. Happy Day After Your Birthday!"

"Heh. Thank you," he pauses. "So..."

"So..."

"Sorry, I'm really bad at this. I never know-"

"I get off at 10:00 tonight."

"Oh. Um, okay,"

"You should come see me."

"I... Yeah. Sure. Okay," he stammers through the huge grin on his face face, his knees bending as he thrusts a triumphant fist into the air.

"Okay then. I'll see you at 10:00?"

"You'll see me at 10:00."

"Great."

"Great." He hangs up the phone and rushes to his closet to work on his attire for the coming night.

* * *

He arrived at the restaurant at 9:50, and sat outside in his car, the heat on protecting him from the cold February air. He waited near the back of the restaurant at the staff entrance, until he saw Stuart appear from behind the red metal door. Dave turned off the car, pulled the keys from the ignition, and shoved them into his pocket before getting out of the car. "Hey!" he called to Stuart. He looked over at him and smiled.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Stuart asks.

"We need to talk," Dave states solemnly, the Josh Ritter song still playing in the background.

 

> _It's only a change of time..._

* * *

"I'm glad you came," Stuart said.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. I'm just glad you did. I didn't know if I was being weird, or if you were even gay."

"I am."

"Yeah. Know that now," he laughs.

* * *

"What do we need to talk about?"

"I... Why are you here?" Dave asks. "I thought..."

"What? Why wouldn't I be here?" Stuart asks confused.

 

> _I had a dream last night_   
>  _And rusting far below me_   
>  _Battered hulls and broken hardships_   
>  _Leviathan and Lonely_   
>  _I was thirsty so I drank_   
>  _And though it was salt water_   
>  _There was something 'bout the way_   
>  _It tasted so familiar_

* * *

"I'm glad to know you were flirting with me. I'm glad I wasn't just imagining it," Dave says as he darts his tongue between his lips to wet them.

"No, you weren't... Hey, it's freezing, do you wanna go somewhere?"

Dave shoves his hands into his pockets. "Sure. Where do you wanna go?"

"Have you ever been to the Wonderland Ballroom?" Stuart asks.

* * *

"Did you think... I live here, David."

"We... You told me to go... I thought we."

"Holy fucking shit! Oh my god! You thought we broke up, didn't you?"

 

> _The black clouds I'm hanging  
>  This anchor I'm dragging  
>  The sails of memory rip open in silence_

* * *

They walked into the Wonderland Ballroom, a great dive bar on Kenyon Street. A Broken Bells song was playing on the jukebox. They grabbed a booth next to the wall, and sat down.

"So, what do you think?" Stuart asked.

"I like it. It's more my thing."

"I had a feeling..."

"Really? What gave you that feeling?"

"You don't seem like a guy who's into the, you know, the thumpa thumpa. I thought you'd like this more."

He laughs. "You were right."

* * *

"Well, you told me to go, and you left! Yes, I thought we were broken up! I thought we were broken up!"

"And you..."

"...Yeah."

"Goddammit!" Stuart yells, walking into the kitchen and turning off the music.

* * *

"Is that what you like?" Dave asked

"What?"

"The 'thumpa thumpa'."

Stuart huffs a laugh. "Not really. I mean, I like to go dancing, but this is more my thing too."

"I'm not much of a dancer."

"Don't worry, you will be. We'll work on that, just stick with me."

"Oh, really? Stick with you... You must think this date is going pretty good then," Dave grins, biting his lower lip.

"I think maybe so, yeah..."

"How good?"

"Hmm..."

* * *

It was 20 minutes later and they were on the L train, on their way to Stuart's apartment. An uptight looking woman who appeared to be in her mid-30s walked through the doors of the train. Dave noticed the PALIN 2016 sticker on her bag as she rolled their eyes at them. "Did you just see that?" Stuart whispered angrily in his ear.

"Yeah, I saw."

"And did you see the sticker on her bag? What do you say-" he said as he slid his leg closer to Dave's, their ankles overlapping, "-that we give her a little show?"

Dave laughs quietly. "What does that entail?"

"Well, I'm gonna kiss you now. This is gonna be our first kiss, so I don't want you to think it's any less special if we go riding off into the sunset or anything. I don't want you to think, while on that white horse, 'Oh, damn, this whole story would be perfect if only our first kiss was different'. I don't want you to regret it because you think we kissed just to spite someone. I want to kiss you anyway, and if we're going to do that, if we're going back to my apartment to do what I think we're going to do, then this'll just be an added bonus. If anything, it'll make it  _extra_ special. We get to kiss for the first time, and rub it in the face of some supercunt homophobe," Stuart whispered, amused, and completely into his own plan.

"I think I could go with that. So... Do we just start-" And Stuart cut him off by wrapping his arm around Dave's neck and beginning to devour his lips. Dave opened his eyes and looked over at the lady, who was staring at them out of the side of her eye, with a disgusted look upon her face. He laughed. "She doesn't look very happy," he whispered as he came up for air. Stuart smiled as he kissed Dave. His tongue slid into Dave's mouth, and Dave could taste the taste of citrus, with a hint of peppermint behind it. Stuart's mouth tasted as great as it felt. His lips were warm and tender, his tongue soft, but not too wet. He was a damn good kisser, that was for sure. If he was this good at other things, Dave knew he was in for a good night.

Dave traced his thumb along the outline of Stuart's ear, a move that was something of Dave's signature. As the train abruptly came to a stop, the doors slid open, and they looked up to see the woman run out in a huff. They both laughed, and leaned close together. The same citrus tang that filled Dave's lips now overtook his sense of smell as he felt Stuart's breath against his. "Mission accomplished?" Dave asked.

"I think so. She won't forget this train ride," he laughs.

"Don't think I will either."

"So it was good then?" Stuart asked coyly.

* * *

"Welcome to my humble abode," Stuart said, twirling in his living room with arms outstretched. The walls were a reddish brown, with cream colored pegboards outlining the walls. A brown pleather couch sat in the middle of the room facing the tv. "Care to have a seat?" he asked, motioning towards it.

"Sure," Dave said as he plopped down onto the couch. Stuart walked over to the opened Macbook that sat on an adjacent desk, and pressed play in iTunes. Joni Mitchell's "River" began to play.

"Ah! Good one," he says triumphantly.

Dave grinned. "Is this some seduction playlist you use on all the boys?"

"Oh, you think I'm seducing you, do you?"

"A little."

"Is it working?"

Dave smiled and looked down at his lap, unsure of what to do with his hands. "A little," he repeated.

"Well, no. It's not a playlist. Shuffle is just unnaturally good to me."

"Ah, so that's it."

"That's it."

"Well, I love this song, so it's good to me too, I guess. Joni Mitchell always really makes me happy."

Stuart sat down next to Dave and draped his arm around Dave's shoulder. "So, here we've made out in the DC metro, and I've just really thought, I don't even know your last name."

Dave smiles. "Karofsky. David Karofsky. Everyone just calls me Dave though."

"Well, nice to meet you, Dave Karofsky. I'm Stuart Daniels. Call me Stu and I'll kill you..."

"Duly noted, Stu's out."

"Damn right. So, Dave Karofsky, who likes Joni Mitchell, why exactly does she make you happy? I mean, the album is called Blue..."

"Yeah, I don't know. My mom always used to listen to it when she was sad, which I guess makes it even more weird that it makes me happy. It just makes me think of  _her_ , I guess."

"My mom always used to make macaroni and cheese when something bad happened. That's how we always knew. 'Mac and cheese is on the table? Oh well, I guess grandpa died.' But despite that, I still love it. Maybe that's why she made it. She knew it'd make things better."

"My mom listened to this album for like a month my senior year of high school. I came out to my parents that spring. That's not what made her sad but... My dad, he didn't really take it well. I mean, he didn't beat me or anything, it wasn't anything like that. It wasn't some Lifetime coming out movie. He just never really accepted it, and my mom did. My mom couldn't understand that, and she divorced him because of it, I guess. She knew I wasn't gonna be around him, and she didn't wanna lose me, so she left him. It wasn't clean cut, she hated it, she still loved him, I guess, but she said she just couldn't be with someone she didn't understand. She moved closer to here, to DC, to be around me, and so I haven't been home in like 5 years. I guess you'd say home, I don't really even think of it as home anymore. I guess home is more people than places. My mom and dad used to be home, now it's my friends, and the last time I saw my dad was the day I left for college."

"Wow. That sucks. I'm sorry. My parents... They never got divorced. I think they're just miserable. Sometimes I wonder why they don't just take the leap and do it. I mean, I don't  _want_  them to. I love my parents, and no one wants to be a statistic, one of the 65% of kids or whatever who have divorced parents, but if they really are just so miserable, why don't they just end it, you know?"

"I think it's kind of like a 'can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em' situation. They hate each other, but they still love each other."

"I don't know. If you are just so fucking unhappy, why not just do it? I mean, it's a fixable problem."

"People don't want to talk about that stuff though, because they  _do_ love each other, but they know it's never gonna change, and it's just this awful situation for everyone. I don't know. Sometimes I'm glad we can't get married. The collective gay 'we'. It takes away all that fucking pressure. I mean, I'll fight for the right, because it's bigger than me. But me... I don't know. I don't wanna get married. I don't think it's for me."

"You don't wanna get married?"

"Nope. I mean, it's a nice sentiment, but what does it mean  _really_?"

"Joint checking accounts?" Stuart laughed.

Dave smiled. "Nah. You can get a joint checking account with anyone."

"I don't know. I mean, I think it's a nice idea, but... Yeah. I don't know."

"Sorry to bum you out. I dunno. It's just like you said, no one wants to be a statistic. They say that 50 percent of marriages end in divorce. Why get married when the relationship has the same chance for survival as a coin toss?" Dave shrugged.

"Because 50 percent of them  _do_ survive."

"I guess."

They paused, and Stuart changed the subject, Dave noticing he was visibly uncomfortable. "So, you were talking about college. Where did you go?"

"I went to Georgetown. Barely got in, and I have a football scholarship largely to thank for that."

"You played football?"

"For a year, yep. I knew what I wanted to do, knew where I wanted to go, but I also knew I'd have trouble getting in on grades alone. I'd kind of lost sight of school. Being in the closet was exhausting. I mostly played hockey before, because it was always my dad's favorite. That was the real reason I ever played sports at all. To please my dad. How cliché is that? But yeah, in my senior year I knew where I wanted to go, and what I wanted to study, but they didn't have a hockey scolarship, so I joined the football team, was pretty good at it, and got a partial scholarship to become a Georgetown Hoya."

"What do you do? Or want to do?"

"I..." he laughed. "Wow, this is gonna sound stupid, but, I want to be the real life Toby Ziegler."

"Who's...?"

"Toby Ziegler is a speechwriter on The West Wing. Greatest show of all time, and if you let me, I'd like to show it to you someday."

"Oh, really?" Stuart smiled widely.

"Yeah. I figure if you're going to make me dance, I can make you watch The West Wing."

"So, you wanna be a speechwriter. Like, for the White House?"

"That's the dream."

"I think it's a good one. So, you're a law student, or..."

"No. I majored in political science with a minor in english, and I am officially a college graduate."

"That's awesome."

In conversation they hadn't noticed that the song had changed, now to "Little Motels" by Modest Mouse. They paused, and Dave turned his head toward Stuart, their gazes meeting. "So, here is where your education begins. I'm gonna make you a dancer," Stuart said standing, and stretching out his hand.

"What?" Dave laughed.

"Come on, Dance with me. Sway with me. Whatever."

"I don't wanna-"

"Come on! No one's here. It's just you and me, and I wanna dance with you. Let's go," he said, clapping his hands together. "Get up."

Dave sighs, "Fine." He took Stuart's hand, and Stuart pulled him up from the couch. "Now what?"

"Just put your arms around my neck."

"Okay..." Dave said, draping his arms around. "Now?"

"I'm gonna put my arms around your waist."

"Oh, I like this part."

Stuart smiles at him. "And then we just... sway," he says, as they begin to slowly rock back and forth, side to side. "See? Not so bad, right?"

"Not this, no..."

"I wanna kiss you again," Stuart said softly.

"Well go for it," Dave said with a smirk.

Stuart rested his hand on Dave's cheek, and took him in once more. Now in the privacy of his apartment, they let themselves get carried further away, their kissing becoming heavier. Stuart slid his hand under Dave's polo. Dave's heart leapt when he felt his hand brushing through the tuft of hair on his chest.

Dave moved his lips from Stuart's, and down onto the side of his neck. "You're a good kisser," Stuart breathed, leaning his head against the back of the leather couch. "Do you wanna go..."

"Yeah," Dave said. "Just lead the way."

* * *

Stuart storms out of the apartment door, and down the steps. Dave runs after him, and calls to him from down the street as he walks to his car. "Stuart!"

"WHAT, DAVE? WHAT?" Stuart says, turning to face him.

"I'm just... I'm sorry it had to happen like this. I don't want us to... You're still one of my best friends. I don't want us to not talk anymore. Is there any possible way we can-"

"You want us to be  _friends_?" he asks indiginantly. "Really?" He laughs, shaking his head. He turns, and without looking back, "Fuck you." With that, he gets into his car, and drives away. Life is not a fairytale. Sometimes stories must have an unhappy ending so another can have it's good beginning.

* * *

"Wow."

"Yeah," Dave laughed, turning to kiss Stuart. He breathed hard into him as their lips collided. "We should do this again."

"Many, many times."

"I'm down for that."

Stuart met Dave's gaze and smiled as their noses touched. "Let's watch TV."

Dave giggled at this suggestion. "What?"

"Yeah. Wanna? Just stay here for awhile. We'll watch a movie or something," Stuart says, sounding relaxed, even though he was slightly out of breath.

"Sounds good to me," Dave said, leaning into his shoulder. He took a beat before speaking again. "I've never done this before."

"What? You... Wait, please don't tell me this was your-" Stuart trailed off sounding panicked.

"No! No, no, no. Just... On a first date."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"Should I be flattered, or...?"

"Yes. I guess I just couldn't resist you," he said with a small breath of laughter.

"Good. And I'm glad you called me. I'm glad we did this."

"Me too. Me too..." he smiles. And he means it.

* * *

"1, 2, 3, SMILE!" Sam says as she snaps a polaroid of Dave and Stuart. She hands the picture over to them, shaking it to rush it's development. Dave looks down at the picture, his red dress shirt peeking out of a black sweater, and Stuart in one of his favorite brown flannel shirts.

 

"I can't believe you guys did this! Stuart, this is amazing!"

"Place where we had our first date!" Stuart says.

"I know. This is just... This is awesome. Thank you. Did you rent the whole place out?"

"For the night, yep. This night is all about you. And, and, and, I know we're not giving out gifts until later,  _but_ if you listen to the music, you will notice, these are all songs that mean something to you, and to me. To us. I made you a mixtape, see?" He says, holding up an orange CD with writing on it in Sharpie marker. "Well, it's a mix cd, but mixtape just sounds better doncha think? Anyway, it's a mixtape of various songs throughout our relationship. I made two copies, and I'm giving you one now, and I gave the guy at the bar one earlier, told him to put it on, and here we are. This is tonight's soundtrack."

"This is great, Stuart. Thank you. Really," he says as he leans over to kiss him.

"I do what I can. Now, you, enjoy your party, mix, mingle, et cetera, et cetera. Like I said, this is your night," he said before kissing him once more, and fading into the crowd.

Dave looks down at the CD, the tracklist written on the face of it.

 

> **01\. The Decemberists – Here I Dreamt I Was an Architect**  
>  The song that played with they first met.
> 
> **02\. Modest Mouse – Little Motel**  
>  The song that played during their first dance, and led to their first time.
> 
> **03\. Pavement – AT &T**  
>  One of Stuart's favorites, he played this song for Dave on their second date and Dave has loved the song ever since, it always reminding him of Stuart.
> 
> **04\. Jeff Buckley – Lover You Should've Come Over**  
>  The song that played during their second time, the night after their third date
> 
> **05\. Death Cab for Cutie – Marching Bands of Manhattan**  
>  They heard this song performed live at the House of Blues at Virginia Beach on their first joint vacation during Stuart's spring break. That night, they each told the other they loved them for the first time.
> 
> **06\. Rilo Kiley – More Adventurous**  
>  The song that was playing on the stereo when they nearly got arrested for public indecency after getting pulled over while Stuart was blowing Dave behind the wheel. Dave couldn't help but laugh at its inclusion.
> 
> **07\. ABBA – Take A Chance On Me**  
>  Stuart sang this song to Dave at a karaoke bar on their first Halloween together.
> 
> **08\. Bob Dylan – Like A Rolling Stone**  
>  **09\. Band of Horses – Evening Kitchen**  
>  Both songs were on a road trip mix Stuart made when they went on a trip to spend Thanksgiving with Stuart's parents in a suburb outside of Pittsburgh. It would be Dave's first time meeting Stuart's parents.
> 
> **10\. The Magnetic Fields – The Book of Love**  
>  **11\. Paul Simon – Graceland**  
>  Both songs that Stuart put on a mix to play during their rather disastrous Thanksgiving dinner when Stuart's father announced that he didn't think Dave was good enough for his son.
> 
> **12\. The National – Runaway**  
>  On their way back to Washington, Stuart comforted Dave, who now worried he really  _wasn't_  good enough for Stuart. Stuart assured him that wasn't the case. Stuart played this song for him in the car as he told Dave how much he loved him, and how much he really wanted to be with him. They would spend the next Thanksgiving and Christmas with Dave's mother at her home in Springfield, Virginia.
> 
> **13\. Whiskeytown – Everything I Do**  
>  Played at a New Year's Eve party when Stuart convinced Dave to dance with him in front of everyone. Dave obliged, overlooking his nerves, and the two would later ring in the New Year together.
> 
> **14\. The Decemberists – California One Youth and Beauty Brigade**  
>  Dave didn't remember this song from any event, but next to the track title were the words  **(One for the future)**.

Later, Dave walked over to Stuart, who was talking to Sam and his friend Maggie in a booth next to the wall. "So, what do you think?" Stuart asked Dave as he joined them.

"It's great. I can't believe you remembered all these songs."

"I remember it all."

Dave smiled as he wrapped his arm around Stuart and kissed him. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," Stuart said, kissing him back. "So... How does it feel to be 24?"

"So far? It feels pretty great. I'm glad I get to be it with you. And can I ask one question... What's the last song for?"

Stuart smiled at him, gently putting his hands on either side of Dave's face. "You'll see."

* * *

Dave sat at his desk, looking over the draft of a speech he was asked to spell check. He was unsure why, but his stomach had pained him all day, and he was anxious for work to be over. He glanced at the clock, 2:43, and was jolted out of a boredom induced trance when his phone rang. "Hello?"

" _Hey, it's Kurt-_

* * *

"-leave me a message after the beep, and it better be fabulous!" the voicemail message says again. This time, Dave hangs up before the beep can sound. He glances down at the gas gauge on the dash, and notices that it's near empty. He'd already stopped at a gas station once, with disastrous results, so he vowed to stop at a different station this time. He drove to the nearest Sheets and pulled up at one of the many empty pumps. As he stood, the hose pouring gas into the tank, he looked up at the store's doors and saw a familiar face leaving the building with a brown bag that took the shape of a liquor bottle.  _Of course. Of FUCKING course!_  His first instinct said to ignore the man, and hope he didn't see him. He looked down at his ground as the gas pumped, filling his tank. His wishes not to be seen, however, were not granted. "David?" the man asked from across the parking lot, his voice a tone of shock.

He sighed, closed his eyes, squeezed his temples, and looked up at the man standing in the doorway of an SUV. "Hi, dad..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People may not be huge fans of this chapter, as it deals largely with an original character and Dave's relationship with him, but it is actually very important to the story, and has some important backstory for Dave. I also really enjoyed writing my original character, and writing him with Dave.
> 
> There was originally a sex scene written, but because it's not something I'm entirely comfortable writing, nor do I think I write it well. There's plenty of smut elsewhere - Avenue Q says it's what the internet is made for - so if you want it, I'm sure you can find it.
> 
> Also, I made the polaroid, with Stuart being played by Matt Lauria from Friday Night Lights and Parenthood.


	7. Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With canon totally pulling a 180 on how I wrote Dave's parents, this is a chapter that really only works within the universe of this fic alone. The things that came in later episodes totally changed the way I viewed the characters.

Dave sat in the passenger seat of his father's green Sequoia. Dave couldn't stand riding in the car with his father. They never said a word to each other, so it was always just long stretches of awkward silence until they reached their destination.

"How many times am I going to have to come down there this year, David?"

"What?"

"How many times am I going to have to come down to that school and sit in the principal's office because you fucked up?"

Dave's stomach dropped. He hardly thought he'd messed up this time. He didn't like the implication that any of this was his fault.

"First it was that boy," Paul said. "That boy they said you picked on. Got you expelled. You're glad I fought that or you'd be out of school, no future ahead of you at all. Now there's this."

" _This_  wasn't my fault," Dave retorted.

"So it was his fault then? David..."

" _What_? How is it my fault? How is any of this my fault? I'm the one who's bleeding!" he said, pulling the red-soaked cloth from his forehead revealing a small bloody gash above his left eye. "He pushed me into a locker. How is that my fault?"

" _Why_  did he push you into a locker? That's what I want to know."

He felt a lump form in this throat and he tried to swallow it back. "I don't- I don't know. He just... did."

"God, he is one of the only people you ever hang around with. Him and that Stromboli kid who looks like he's halfway to a midlife crisis."

"It's Strando, and he is not that old!" Dave defended.

"He looks older than most college graduates I know. How many years was he held back?"

 

"He was only held back one time in like 6th grade…"

"Oh, that's better!" he spit back sarcastically. "Someone who can't master long division."

"Why do you have to be so judgemental? He's not stupid. Some people just have a hard time with school. And he was having a bad year the first time anyway because his mom had cancer or something. You wanna make fun of that?"

"And then the other one eats us out of house and home every time he visits," Paul said, ignoring the guilt trip Dave just laid on him. "Do you not have more friends than that?"

"I don't know. How many friends do you need?"

"David, having only two friends is not normal."

"How many do you have?"

"This isn't about me," he says softly.

Dave sighed, went quiet and laid his head back against the seat. He closed his eyes, and remained silent until...

"We're home," Paul said.

As they entered, Dave's mother greeted them. "What happened? Are you okay? David, what's going on lately? This is twice that-"

"It's nothing! God! Can you both just leave me alone?" He darted upstairs, slamming the door to his bedroom behind him. He walked over to his computer and turned on a song by Iggy and the Stooges as loud as it would go.

* * *

Dave popped the collar of his peacoat up and started at the ground, hoping to avoid the gaze of his father. He didn't want to see him. He said his goodbyes to the man long ago, and he wanted that to be that.

"David?" Paul asked.

His, admittedly poor, attempts at stealth had failed. He thought over the words he was going to say to the father he walked away from, to the father he'd never really gotten along with, but the only words that popped into his head were these: "Hi, dad..."

"It's... Wow. David. It's... I didn't know you were... You're here. Wow. It's... How've-"

"I've been good. I've been good," He says, knowing that while finding words may be difficult for him, it's even worse for his father. "So, you're out late."

"Yeah, I just..." he trails off and Dave can tell there's something he wants to tell him, but can't seem to say. "I can't believe your here."

"Yeah, well... My friend's dad, um, died, and so..."

"You came all this way for that? They must be a good friend."

"I guess..." he says, slightly embarrassed that the person he came here for didn't count him as a friend at all. "So, what are you doing out so late? It's like 2 A.M.?"

"I have trouble sleeping sometimes."

"Oh..."

"Yeah, it's been going on for a while..." He pauses. "Listen, do you wanna, I don't know, go get a drink or something? I..."

"We don't have to-"

"No. It's just... I haven't seen you in forever. I haven't seen you since you left for school. I'd like to... I'd really like to..." He struggles getting the words out, but Dave stops him.

"Yeah. I guess... Okay, yeah."

"Do you wanna go... I don't know, what's open this late?"

"I don't know. Gas stations and bars?" he laughs. It feels strange to laugh in front of his dad. It feels strange to be in his presence at all.

"Yeah," Paul smiles. "Um... I guess we could go get a drink or something. Or, do you just wanna come to my place? You... You haven't seen it."

"New... You have a new house?"

"Yeah. It's just a small one. Over on Sycamore. I didn't need that big one all to myself..." he trails off.

"Oh..." Dave suddenly feels bad for him. Here's a guy who'd been married since he was in his early 20s - the same age  _he_  is now – and then that all changes after 25 years. He couldn't help feeling partially responsible. "I... Yeah, we can go there."

"Okay. Great," his father says with a smile. "Do you wanna ride with me, or just-"

"I'll follow you," he says, wanting to avoid the awkward drives he remembered all to well from his high school years.

"Okay. I'll just let you pay for your gas, and you can follow me."

"Alright."

* * *

 

Dave heard a knock at his door, and he slightly turned down the Sonic Youth song blaring from his computer speakers. "Who is it?"

"It's mom."

"Go away, please."

"Don't tell me to go away! C'mon, let me in, I need to talk to you."

"I don't wanna talk right now."

"That's too bad. Open your door or I'm getting the key."

"I hid the key," he says, smirking defiantly.

"You hid one of the keys. Do you think doorknobs only come with one key? They come with two, buddy, now let me in or I'll do it myself!"

_Dammit_ , he thought. She was always a step ahead of him. He didn't know how she did it. It was like moms had some sort of weird superpower. He reached over to the door and flicked the door unlocked. "Okay."

The door slowly swung open, his mom on the other side. She stepped in and closed the door behind her. "We need to talk."

"Told me that already," he said, his voice cold and monotone. He was only half paying attention, his eyes still on his computer screen as he wrote a comment out to a friend on Facebook ( _Stop sending me crops, asshole! I don't wanna play fucking Farmville with you!_ ).

"At least you're not looking up how to make bombs or something!" his mother joked.

He looked up and saw that she was looking at the screen. He quickly slammed his laptop shut and it put the music to sleep. "Would you stop looking at my stuff, please?"

"Excuse me! Don't forget who you're talking to right now. I payed for your stuff."

"I paid for this. I worked all summer at that record store, remember?"

"Okay, fine, but I payed for the desk it's on, and the roof it's under, so you can just calm down."

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine."

"So, is there anything you want to talk about?"

"You said you wanted to talk to me..."

"I wanted to talk to you to see if there was anything you wanted to talk to me about."

"What?"

"David, don't play stupid. I'm not your friends. I know you're not as big a jackass as you like to pretend to be."

He looked down at his lap, then over at the jacket hanging on the back of his bedroom door. It didn't match the rest of his belongings, strung all over his dirty tan carpet. That jacket was his status, it was his security blanket, his armor. The great wearable distraction. A mask. He put that on and he was the goddamn Batman. He took it off and he was just Dave Fucking Karofsky, and he wasn't all that fond of that guy. He didn't like who he was in the jacket either, but at least other people respected him.  _Fear is the same thing as respect, right?_ "It's nothing."

"Your dad's had to come get you at school twice now. It's not nothing," she scolds.

"What do you want me to say then? I don't know."

"David... Every time... I don't really know how to go about this... Every time they've called you in, it's because somebody... David, there is nothing you can do, nothing you can  _be_  that will make me not love you. You are my son, my child, and I will love you no matter what, or who you are... David... I know it's probably not something a mom is supposed to ask, but I feel like if I don't... David-" She paused. "Are you gay?"

He felt his face, damp and tear stained. He rubbed at his eyes and sniffled. "Don't tell dad," he said weakly.

"Oh, baby, c'mere." She grabbed him, tightening her arms around him into a huge mom hug. It was the kind of life affirming hug that only moms knew how to give. The one that said everything was going to be alright. That even though you're bigger, physically stronger, she will always, always protect you. No matter what. He buried his face in her shoulder, reaching around to rub away the tears from his eyes.

"I love you," he said into his mother's ear, his head still on her shoulder.

"I love you too, David. I love you more than you will ever know."

He'd heard stories of how coming out made people feel like the weight of the world had been lifted off their shoulders, and so far, he found that to be absolutely true. His mother would always be there for him. For the first time, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he'd never be completely alone.

* * *

He stood outside of his father's apartment building, a nice place that looked more like an old brick house than what it was. Paul had asked Dave to wait a minute while he cleaned up. Dave told him not to worry, but he insisted anyway. He'd been outside for about 3 minutes, and decided to try Kurt's cell again while he waited for the invite upstairs.

The phone dialed out. "Hey, it's Kurt. Leave me a message, and it better be  _fabulous!_ "  _Dammit!_

"Hey. It's Dave again. I'm... shit, I'm sorry I'm calling so much, but you ran off and you're a little drunk, and you don't have a car, so please, call me back, text me, something. I'm... Just call me, okay?"

He leaned against the back of the car, watching his breath spread from his lips like small plumes of smoke. The snow had slowed, but it was still blanketing the cement beneath his feet. He could get in his car as he waited, but for some reason he was enjoying the cold's slight bitter sting against his cheeks. He craned over to his rear window and blew against the glass, creating a fog on it's surface. He reached his finger over and drew a phrase,  **TIME IS AN OCEAN** , in the frost.

Finally, his father emerged from the front doors of the building. "Okay, come on up."

Dave walked up the stairs, his father leading the way. "I'm sorry I made you wait. I just wanted to clean up a little bit. This'll be the first time you see it, so..."

"Yeah," Dave says. In this moment he is quiet and withdrawn, unsure of how to feel, how to behave around the man who helped raised him, the man he hadn't seen since the day he left for college.

He entered the apartment, it's walls stark white, the carpet dull and tan. It was nothing special, void of personality or pride. He imagined that for his father, it was simply a place to live.

Paul motioned around at the room around them. "Well, this is it."

* * *

"This is it, David! This is it. I have had enough. Third time. I will  _not_  come down there again. You always  _FUCK UP_  like this, David. You have never been..." His father trailed off.

"Been what?" He retorted.

"Nevermind."

"No! Been  _what_? I have never been what? Finish your sentence. Let's hear it!" Dave said, standing up, his face red with anger. Spit flew from his lips as he spoke.

"Dave!" his mother said, sitting on the couch. She remained quiet through most of the confrontation, holding on to the secret Dave had divulged to her. She knew why the things that were happening were happening, but had no idea how to put a stop to it without betraying her son's trust, something she was unwilling to do.

"Your brother. You've never been like your brother. I never had to deal with things like this with him."

Dave shook his head and laughed, but he could feel his eyes dampen, tears softly seeping from the edges of his eyelids. "Yeah, well. I guess I'll just never be Mason, will I dad? This is just one thing on the long list of reasons why. I'll never, ever be good enough. Ever."

"David, that's not what I'm saying! You get in trouble all the time, you've gotten into fights, you've picked on that little queer kid-" Dave flinched as he said this, and his mother interrupted.

"PAUL!"

"You're even fighting with your friends, David! What the hell is going on? Your brother, he never did anything like this. So no, if you want me to think you're as good as your brother, you have to act like it."

"PAUL! What the hell are you-" Her sentence remained incomplete, as Dave cut her off.

"Wow! You know, most parents would deny it, but you just come right out and say it. Good for you," he says, sardonically applauding. "You just go for it. You go for it. You have the balls just to come right out and say it. So you wanna know why I'm not like Mason? BECAUSE I'M NOT FUCKING MASON! I'M NOT MASON. I'm never going to be Mason! He's dead, and you just keep wanting me to be your golden child, but I'm not him, dad! Never gonna be. And you know what? You wanna know why I'm doing these things at school? Why I'm getting into fights and picking on 'that little queer kid'?"

"Yes, yes I do!"

"Because I am a little queer kid! I'm gay. And you know what? I'm sick of fucking lying all the time."

Paul looks awestruck. He closes his eyes, and speaks softly under Dave's loud tones. "No, you're not."

"And all this time I have been doing all this shit, because I thought I couldn't be who I was, that I wasn't good enough for you, when all this time it's not that I wasn't good enough for you, it's that you're not good enough for me! So there you go. I'm sick of hiding, and I'm sick of feeling ashamed, because I shouldn't be. God, it's taken me this long to get it, and I hate that! I'm fine. You're the one who's fucked up!

"Is this why you got in a fight with Azimio? Did you  _tell_ him? Well, Jesus Christ, David. You shouldn't tell a boy something like that!"

"Excuse me? Why not?"

"It's just not something we-"

"Fuck that. No. I'm not going to do that anymore! I just told you, I'm not going to be a scared little boy anymore! I'm not just gonna be ordinary!"

"You are not GAY, David! You are not gay. You... You choose that, you can choose not to be. You are 18 years old, and you have no damn clue what the world-"

"Yes I do! I do. I know because I've been through it more than you've ever been! I know what the world's like. And I have tried so hard to change myself because of that, but I'm not anymore, because I can't! No one can. All you can do is lie, and I'm so sick and tired of doing that! So you know what? Yeah, I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm gay, I'm gay, I'm gay! And if you can't handle that? You can go fuck yourself." His last words are calm and cool. "I'm going to go to my room, pack my shit, and get out. I can't live here anymore."

He ran up the stairs, and cut into his bedroom quickly, slamming and locking the door behind him. He walked over to his computer and turned on a song from a playlist a friend he'd met online, in a message board for gay youths, had sent him. He turned the volume knob to the right, leaned on his desk, masking any sound that would come from his room, and began to cry. All that just went on downstairs, all that he'd just said... In the years since he'd figured out his own secret, if there was one thing he'd learned, it was how to put on a good show.

* * *

"It's nice."

"Yeah. It's just a place to live, really. I know it's not much but..."

Their conversation drops. Dave stands in the doorway, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets as he rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet. As he stands there, he notices a nail in the wall that looks like something was meant to hang on it, but nothing's there. He wonders what was there. A poster? A picture? Was his dad having some sort of fucked up mid-life crisis that involved hanging porn in his apartment?  _Nope, nope! That's not it. Nope!_  He banished the thought from his mind.

"So, um..." He broke the silence.

"Yeah?" his father asked a little to eagerly, like a dog anxiously waiting on a bone.

"You care if I, you know... sit?"

"Oh! No. I mean, no, yeah, sit. Sit. Have a seat right here," he says, patting the back of the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? You're over 21 now, you want a beer or..."

"Driving."

"Right, right. A soda? Bottle of water or something?"

"Water's good."

"Alright."

He sat on the couch, his hands bouncing on his knees. His eyes darted around the room, looking for signs of a life lived, but he saw nothing. White walls, untouched shelves, and the only things that appeared to have been touched were the computer and the television. What does he watch? What does he do on that computer? Does he have anyone in his life? Is he completely alone? These were all questions running through Dave's mind. Years of not giving a shit, and here he was, feeling sorry for the bastard who never accepted him.

"Here you go," his father said as he handed him a bottle of water.

"Thanks." He looked at the bottle, and he knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself. "You shouldn't use bottled water, though. It's really bad for the environment."

His saw his father attempt to contain a sigh. "Well, the water's really bad here. Place has bad pipes."

"Yeah, well, you could still get a filter or something. Do you at least recycle?"

Dave could tell Paul was rolling his eyes beneath closed lids. This, this little argument right here, was one of the reasons Dave was glad to stay away from this place, from this guy. Arguing with him was like a dog chasing it's own tail, but for some reason, Dave could never help but start these little arguments, and he only noticed this now. All this time, he'd thought it was always his father, Paul, turning the ignition, and maybe it was, but Dave could see now that it was him who put in the key. Old habits really do die hard, and he'd have to work to set aside his own stubbornness if this conversation were to remain at all civil. "So..."

"So, how have you been, David?"

"I've been good."

"That's good. What have you been up to?"

He didn't quite know how to respond. He felt sorry for his dad, in this boring apartment with hospital white walls and nothing but a computer and television to keep him company. He considered not giving a straight answer, but he was proud of what he was doing in his life, and he didn't want to lie about it anymore. He'd had enough of that with him. "I'm... Well, I graduated from Georgetown like 3 years ago."

"I know. Your mother emailed me pictures."

_Oh... you still talk to mom?_  Dave thought to himself. He wasn't sure why, but he was never aware that they continued to communicate.

"And you're working as a speechwriter?" Holy shit. How much  _did_  he know?

"She told you all this?"

"She... yes." He thinks his father can sense that this bothers him slightly, that it makes him almost feel as if his trust has been betrayed. "She doesn't tell me much else, though."

"Oh... Yeah, well, yeah. I'm speechwriting. I'm not really high up on the ladder or anything, but I am. I've had a few lines in a few speeches here and there."

"You're being modest. She told me that you wrote a big section of a speech for Harvey Milk Day, I think it was?"

"I thought she said she didn't tell you a lot?"

"She's just bragging, David. She's proud of you," Paul defended. "I'm..." he trailed off, and Dave could see an almost pained expression on his face. This was hard for him, and he knew it.

"Thanks." Dave said, knowing what his father meant but couldn't seem to say.

* * *

> _Blue songs are like tattoos_

He walked into his parents' bedroom. His mother stood at a dresser, drawers pulled open, boxes all around. Her eyes were dry, but he could read the sadness all over her face. And even if he couldn't the Joni Mitchell sort of gave it away. "Hey," he timidly called.

She looked over at her soon in the doorway and smiled the weakest of smiles. "Hey."

> _Hey Blue, here is a song for you_

"What are you doing?"

> _Ink on a pin  
>  Underneath the skin  
>  An empty space to fill in_

"I..." She trailed off, and he looked at her, studied her. He knew exactly what she was doing. He'd seen it happen to friends, and even if he hadn't, it was obvious. He wasn't stupid.

"You're getting a divorce."

> _Well there're so many sinking now  
>  You've got to keep thinking  
>  You can make it thru these waves_

She looked at him and sighed. "Yes."

He wasn't sure why - he hated the guy - but it made his stomach feel hollow. It reminded him of the feeling he got when he was on a carnival ride that would raise you up then rapidly drop you as you reached the top. No one really  _wants_  to see their parents get divorced. "Is it because of me?" He realized how stupid the question was once he'd said it, how childish it sounded.

> _Acid, booze, and ass  
>  Needles, guns, and grass  
>  Lots of laughs, lots of laughs_

"David, c'mere." She extended her hand, waving him forward, waving him towards her. He stepped through the boxes, and stood in front of her as she gave him a hug, which he returned. "You know I love you, right?"

> _Everybody's saying that hell's the hippest way to go  
>  Well I don't think so  
>  But I'm gonna take a look around it though_

"Yeah."

"Okay, good. The thing is... The way I've seen your father act... I don't understand him anymore. I don't. I don't understand how he can treat you that way, or talk to you that way, because you're our son. I don't understand, and I can't be with someone I don't understand. I just can't see him anymore, the person I used to see when I looked at him. So we talked, and I told him how I felt, and I told him that I just couldn't do this anymore. We've talked to a lawyer, and since you're 18 and are going to college soon, it was all easy enough to iron out. I don't want you to think this was your fault, or that you caused it, because David, you absolutely didn't. This is me and him. We can't communicate, we can't talk, and I don't know where we'd start if we could." Her eyes begin to well up. " Even if we're speaking the same language, everything seems to get lost in translation."

> _Blue, here is a shell for you_  
>  Inside you'll hear a sigh  
>  A foggy lullaby  
>  There is your song from me

"So... Where are you going?"

"Well, you graduate in about a month, and... I don't know how you'll feel about this, but... I've been looking for places near D.C. and I think I found one... I just don't want to do anything until I know how you feel about it. You're going away to college, and I know you probably don't want your mom going with you, so if you say no, that's fine, but I'd really like to be near you, David."

He knew she had a point. He probably shouldn't like the idea of his mother being near his college as much as he did. He wouldn't admit it, but since receiving his acceptance letter, he'd been terrified of leaving this place, or more specifically, her. "Yes. That's... That's good. You should... yeah. You should do that." He tried as hard as he could to contain his smile, his relief, but it was a difficult task. "Take it. Take the place."

"Are you sure?"

"I... Ask me again?"

"Are you sure you don't mind me moving to DC, near your school?"

He mulled it over for a moment in his head. "You're not afraid to leave your home?"

She smiled at him and laughed small laugh to herself "David, you're my mom.

He felt the lump in his throat again, closing for a different reason now. "Then yes. You should. Move. There. Yeah."

She smiled at him. "Well, okay then."

* * *

Dave was in the middle of telling his father about his job — being purposefully vague about the gay issues he writes about, being a speechwriter for an LGBT organization. This conversation is already awkward enough — when he hears his phone ding in his pocket. A new text message.

_**Hey, it's Kurt. I'm fine. You don't need to call anymore. I'm sorry about what happened at Mercedes'. Thanks for coming, for talking to me. You were right. I needed it. You really do seem like you've changed. I'm proud of you for that. Have a nice life, Dave.** _

Wow. He hadn't expected that... It was quick. It was abrupt. It was a goodbye. An ending. He felt his face drop as he stared at his phone.

"Who was that?" his father asked.

"Huh? Oh... Um, just... That was my friend."

"The one who's dad just died?"

"Yeah. He kinda ran off earlier. He just texted me to tell me he was okay."

"Ah... That it?"

He read the message over again before putting his phone to sleep and sliding it back into his pocket. "That's it."

They sit in a heavy silence that roars in Dave's ear.

"Hey, I have something for you," his father says, piercing the auditory void.

He stands up and walks over to a closet, and Dave follows. He looks into the door and sees boxes on top of boxes, and leaning against one of the boxes near the doorway is an old photo of Dave and his dad after one of his hockey games in junior year. It's suddenly clear to him what was on that nail in the living room. It fills him with sadness, and makes him feel second hand loneliness for the guy he'd held nothing but contempt for since his senior year of high school.

"Here," his father said, pulling something out of a box that Dave used to cling so tightly to. It was his letterman's jacket. It made him feel sick to his stomach, seeing it again.

He closed his eyes and took it, huffing a small laugh as it reached his hands. "Thanks, I guess." He looked at the jacket, and saw words written on the lining. He remembered writing them, doodling on the inside of his jacket one day in class when he was feeling particularly down. In faded Sharpie, they read,  **NOT MUCH HOPE FOR SURVIVAL IF THE NEON BIBLE IS RIGHT** , lyrics to the song by Arcade Fire. "Listen, dad... You keep this."

"No, no. It's yours. You left it here."

"No, dad, it's..." Round and round the little dog goes. "Fine..." He sighs. "Thank you."

"No problem. It's yours. You earned it."

He rapidly ran his fingers through his hair, and traced a small dry patch on his lips with the tip of his tongue. "Listen, it's really late, and I... I think I better go."

"Oh... Um, okay then. Alright."

"Yeah. It's... It's been good seeing you, dad."

He walks Dave over to the front door and opens it. "You too." He smiles a small smile, and sees him out. Dave begins to walk down the hall when, "David?"

He turns to face his father, who walks over to meet him. "Yeah?"

"I..." His father trails off, and Dave sees that face again, the face that wants to say so much, but can't seem to get any of it out. "It's been good seeing you," he nods.

Dave half-smiles at him. "You too, dad."

As he finally turns to walk away, he feels his father give him a pat and light squeeze on the shoulder. He knew he would probably never hear the actual words come out of his mouth, and in all honesty, he'd given up on caring, but he knew, deep down, that this was the closest he'd ever get to his father telling him he loved him.

* * *

He put his last bag into the backseat of his car as he prepared to leave. His mother wouldn't be leaving for another week, so he'd have to go this one alone if he wanted to be in DC in time for the start of Georgetown's summer program. It was graduation night, and both his mother and father attended the ceremony. They even sat together, though he wasn't sure why. His mother told him she'd cried when the Glee Club performed a slow, saccharin cover of "In My Life" by The Beatles. He was just bored, and ready to get the fuck out of the town he'd hated for so many years.

"Okay, so you're sure you don't me to come with you and help you get settled? I know I'm leaving in a week, but I can go if you need me to."

"I'm fine, mom... I'll see you next week. Oh, Jesus, stop crying." He hugged her, tight, and she whispered something in his ear.

"You made it."

"I did."

"My baby boy!"

"Yeah, okay... I... I should probably go." Dave felt incredibly scared. He was about to face a brave new world, and he was doing it all on his own. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, and though he was as afraid as a person could be, the fear felt good. It was new, and exciting. It was growing up.

He turned to his father, who remained quiet, standing a few feet behind his mother as if not to intrude on a moment. "Well... bye, I guess." He turned away from him, saying nothing else. and walked over to the driver's side of the car, climbing in.

His father walked over to the driver's side window, followed by his mother. "Bye David." He smiled a weak smile at Dave, and pulled something out of his pocket. "Here, take this. You might need it."

He reached over and handed Dave a 100 dollar bill. "I don't want your money," Dave shot back coldly.

"David, just take it." Round and round...

"Fine." He took the money, and slid it into the sun visor as his mother stepped over.

"I'll see you, David," his father said.

"See you," he replied, but he knew he wouldn't. This was, for all intents and purposes, a final goodbye.

* * *

He drove up to the dropbox of the Lima Goodwill, Blood On the Tracks still on the stereo. He stepped out of the car, and tossed his old jacket into the dropbox, got in and drove away.

As he drove through town, he looked for any sign of where Kurt may be. He knew he'd said he was okay, that this was over, but he still knew he had to say at least a goodbye. In person, face to face. Too many things between the two of them had gone unsaid, and he wasn't willing to add anything else to that list.

Finally, as he drove further into the downtown area, he saw it: Hummel Auto-Repair, and damn if he didn't see a light on inside. He quickly pulled a U-Turn, his tires screeching as he turned the steering wheel. He pulled in front of the building and stepped out onto the sidewalk, locking his car door behind him. He walked over to the door of Hummel Auto-Repair and knocked as hard as possible. He heard a voice answer from inside that unmistakably belonged to Kurt.

"We're closed!"

"It's me! It's Dave! Karofsky!"

"I told you I was okay."

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure."

"Well, I am, so goodbye."

"Kurt, just let me in! It's fucking freezing!"

He stood for a moment, no more voices coming from behind the large steel door. "Kurt?"

Finally, he heard the locks on the door begin to turn, and the door swung open. There was Kurt. Dave could see his eyes were bloodshot, and his cheeks were wet.

"You're not okay..." Dave said.

"Yeah, well..."

"Can I come in, Dave asked patiently, shivering on the sidewalk.

Kurt sighed. "Fine," he said, stepping aside, making a path for Dave to enter. "Come in."

_He was standing in the doorway, looking like the jack of hearts..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me FOREVER originally! It was very difficult trying to write scenes between two emotionally closed off characters who have problems communicating, especially when large chunks of the chapter was them alone in a room doing just that. I loosened up a little bit on the Dylan in this chapter, because I found it difficult to work the lyrics into chapter. There is a small mention and one lyric in there.
> 
> This is another chapter I made some slight revisions on. A few lines of dialogue were changed, and a character was swapped out for another that was mentioned in an episode of Glee that aired after this was originally written. Most is the same though, including the difference in how I view Dave's parents.


	8. If You See Her, Say Hello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is VERY different from other chapters. All from Kurt's point-of-view, and it's written in a script format. This is to differentiate the point-of-view, and also to reflect Kurt's more theatrical nature. I think Kurt would have a tendency to look at the world like a movie, so I wrote the chapter as such. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, and if any of you aren't familiar with script terminology, [here](http://www.simplyscripts.com/WR_glossary.html) is a glossary to help you along. I think it should help, though I tried not to get too technical with it.
> 
> This chapter may also look incorrect on some devices or browsers, so [here's a link to this chapter as a PDF on a Google Drive](https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1XV94Ql_0OJUk1EQzBJMlZoY3M). This probably the best way to view this chapter to begin with.
    
    
      
    
     
                   INT. HUMMEL AUTO-REPAIR - NIGHT
    
                   KURT sits at a desk in the back room of his father's garage.
                   The camera rests behind him. A single lamp is on, engulfing
                   the room in a warm golden light. Adele's "Turning Tables"
                   plays on a stereo.  We CRANE UP over KURT to reveal that he's
                   looking at an old picture of him, probably around the age of
                   4 or 5, with his father and mother in front of an old
                   restored Chevy. He is in his father's arms, and his mother's
                   head rests on Burt's shoulder. He begins to cry. Some tears
                   drip onto the picture and he quickly rubs them away when,
                   over the song, we faintly hear a KNOCK coming from the
                   customer entrance. KURT looks over towards the door. He
                   stands and walks into the garage area. He looks spooked by
                   someone being at the door to a closed auto-shop at 3:00 in
                   the morning.
    
                                       KURT
                             We're closed!
    
                                       DAVE (O.S.)
                             It's me! It's Dave! Karofsky!
    
                   His tension visibly melts away when he hear's DAVE's voice.
                   It is replaced, however, with a look of slight embarrassment.
    
                                       KURT
                             I told you I was okay!
    
                                       DAVE (O.S.)
                             Yeah, well, I just wanted to make
                             sure.
    
                   He closes his eyes and lets out a small SIGH.
    
                                       KURT
                             Well, I am, so goodbye.
    
                                       DAVE (O.S.)
                             Kurt, just let me in! It's fucking
                             freezing!
    
                   KURT stands for a beat, nervously tapping his feet, hands on
                   his hips.
    
                                       DAVE (O.S.) (CONT'D)
                             Kurt?
    
                   Finally, he reaches over and begins to unlock the door.
    
                                       KURT
                                 (quietly muttering to
                                  himself)
                             Shit.
    
                   He throws open the door, and DAVE is standing outside in the
                   snow. DAVE looks at KURT, noticing the tear streaks on his
                   face. His face drops.
    
                                       DAVE
                                 (softly, sympathetically)
                             You're not okay.
    
                                       KURT
                                 (timidly)
                             Yeah, well...
    
                   DAVE stands for a short beat.
    
                                       DAVE
                                 (patiently, but obviously
                                  tired of standing in the
                                  freezing cold)
                             So, can I come in?
    
                                       KURT
                                 (sighing)
                             Fine.
    
                   He stands aside and waves his arms into the garage.
    
                                       KURT (CONT'D)
                             Come in.
    
                   DAVE obliges, stepping past KURT and into the garage.
    
                                       DAVE
                             Thank you.
    
                                       KURT
                             Well, I wasn't gonna let you freeze
                             to death!
    
                                       DAVE
                             Thanks for that.
    
                                       KURT
                             Yeah, well, you bought me a drink.
                             I suppose not letting you die is
                             the least I can do.
    
                                       DAVE
                             No biggie.
                                 (beat)
                             So, are you okay?
    
                   KURT looks down at his feet.
    
                                       KURT
                             Not really.
                                 (beat)
                             My dad just died.
                                 (pause)
                             Wow, it's really weird to say that.
                             My dad just died.
    
                   DAVE looks at him, EMPATHY on his face.
    
                                       DAVE
                             Yeah. I'm sorry.
    
                                       KURT
                             You keep saying that. I have to
                             wonder if you keep meaning it as
                             well.
    
                                       DAVE
                             I do. Wouldn't say it if I didn't.
    
                                       KURT
                             It's just that you say you work in
                             Washington, so I figure you're a
                             pretty good liar.
    
                   DAVE laughs.
    
                                       DAVE
                             Haven't lied to you so far, don't
                             plan on lying to you in the future.
    
                                       KURT
                             But how do I know that's not just
                             another lie?
    
                                       DAVE
                             I guess you just have to trust me.
    
                   KURT looks at him, sizing him up, a calculating glare.
                   Finally, his shoulders relax a little more.
    
                                       KURT
                             Well, do you wanna sit down or
                             something?
    
                                       DAVE
                             Sure. Whatever you want.
    
                                       KURT
                             Okay. Come with me.
    
                   KURT leads DAVE back into the office he sat in earlier. This
                   time, the camera PANS past the door, and we see a name plate
                   under a small window: **BURT'S OFFICE**.
    
                                       DAVE
                             This is your dad's office?
    
                                       KURT
                             This is my dad's office.
    
                   DAVE looks over at him.
    
                                       DAVE
                             You're sort of a glutton for
                             punishment, aren't you?
    
                                       KURT
                                 (scoffs)
                             What does that mean?
    
                                       DAVE
                             It means it's a night where you
                             should drink a lot and forget the
                             world and instead you come here.
    
                   KURT shrugs.
    
                                       KURT
                             I came for the memories.
    
                                       DAVE
                             Are they both misty and water
                             colored?
    
                   KURT looks at him with pleasant surprise.
    
                                       KURT
                             Never in a  million years did
                             I think I'd hear a Barbara
                             reference come out of your
                             mouth.
    
                                       DAVE
                             Haven't we already established that
                             I'm full of surprises?
    
                   KURT smiles. DAVE steps over towards the desk and looks at
                   the picture sitting on it.
    
                                       DAVE (CONT'D)
                             This you?
                                 (beat, he scrunches his
                                  nose as if to say "Duh,
                                  dumbass!")
                             Stupid question.
    
                                       KURT
                             Yes, it's me.
    
                   He takes the frame from him.
    
                                       KURT (CONT'D)
                             Don't hold it like that, you're
                             gonna smudge up the glass.
    
                                       DAVE
                             Sorry.
                                 (beat)
                             So... Tell me about things. How did
                             you wind up back here? I thought
                             you'd be the last person to ever
                             come back to Lima.
    
                                       KURT
                             It wasn't really a choice...
    
                                                              FLASH CUT TO:
    
    
    
                   INT. NEW YORK UNIVERSITY - THEATRE - DAY
    
                                       PROFESSOR SHANNA
                             Evening Primrose.
    
                   PROFESSOR SHANNA is a thin man with wire rim glasses. He
                   wears a gray sweater vest with navy piping, a light blue
                   oxford shirt underneath, and a navy bowtie with small white
                   dots. The camera is close on him, but pulls back as he
                   speaks.
    
                                       PROFESSOR SHANNA (CONT'D)
                             We go on in a month, and we have to
                             be perfect. We were lucky enough to
                             be granted the rights to the book,
                             and we have to do it justice.
    
                                       KURT (V.O.)
                             It was around four years ago.
    
                                       PROFESSOR SHANNA
                             Okay, Thomas Rattigan, our Charles,
                             let's start today off with a run
                             through of _If You Can Find
                             Me_.
    
                   THOMAS, a good looking senior, two years older than KURT,
                   steps over into center stage.
    
                                       PROFESSOR SHANNA (CONT'D)
                                 (to Thomas)
                             Okay, Thomas, let's give it a run
                             through.
    
                   He motions over the accompanist who sits behind the piano,
                   and he begins to play Sondheim's "If You Can Find Me I'm
                   Here".
    
                                       THOMAS
                                 (singing)
                             _Is it done?
                             Are they gone?
                             Am I alone?_
    
                   KURT looks up at THOMAS as he sings. He smiles at him, and
                   THOMAS smiles back as he sings. We can tell there is some
                   sort of history here. A girl sitting next to KURT whispers
                   something in his ear. This is KURT's good friend AMY.
    
                                       AMY
                             You're eye-fucking him.
    
                                       KURT
                             What?
    
                                       AMY
                             You are. I just watched an entire
                             porno unfold with that look you
                             just gave him.
    
                                       KURT
                             I'm not  eye-fucking him!
    
                                       AMY
                             Totally eye-fucking him.
    
                   KURT'S POV: A man in a simple black suit walks over to
                   PROFESSOR SHANNA on the side of the stage and begins to tell
                   him something.
    
                                       THOMAS
                                 (singing)
                             _I am alone.
                             It's done.
                             They're gone._
    
                                       KURT
                             Amelia!
    
                                       AMY
                             Kurtis!
    
                                       KURT
                             My name isn't Kurtis.
    
                                       AMY
                             I know, but I don't have any
                             lengthened versions of your name to
                             scold you with, so I'm pretending
                             your name is Kurtis for the time
                             being.
    
                                       KURT
                             Please don't.
    
                   PROFESSOR SHANNA steps down from the stage and walks over to
                   KURT in the second row of the theatre.
    
                                       PROFESSOR SHANNA 
                             Kurt, could you come with me,
                             please?
    
                                       KURT
                             Uh, yes. Okay.
    
                   PROFESSOR SHANNA  begins to walk towards the back of the
                   theatre. KURT stands to follow. He turns to AMY.
    
                                       KURT (CONT'D)
                             You got me in trouble!
    
                                       AMY
                             SHH! Just go!
    
                   KURT laughs as he follows PROFESSOR SHANNA down the long
                   theatre and into the hall outside.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _I am a genius.
                             Charles, you are an unadulterated
                             genius.
                             You are an indisputable
                             extraordinary-
                             What was that?
                             Not a thing.
                             You're a fool.
                             You are alone.
                             And it begins._
    
                   The camera stays in theatre, watching them through a window
                   in the door as PROFESSOR SHANNA speaks to KURT M.O.S. The
                   only thing we hear is the music.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.) (CONT'D)
                                 (singing)
                             _Careful, Careful.
                             Mustn't get excited, Mustn't overdo
                             it.
                             Softly, Tip toe.
                             You'll get used to it in no
                             time._
    
                   KURT's face goes from confusion to shocked sadness as
                   PROFESSOR SHANNA speaks to him. He looks breathless as he
                   begins to quietly cry. He bends over, breathing heavily, his
                   hands on his knees. He puts the back of his hand up over his
                   mouth and says something to the professor. PROFESSOR SHANNA
                   nods understandingly. We see KURT say the words "THANK YOU."
    
                                       KURT (V.O.)
                             That's when he told me.
    
                                       DAVE (V.O.)
                             Told you what?
    
                                       KURT (V.O.)
                             My dad had had a heart attack.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _Look at it! Beautiful!
                             What a place to live! What a Place
                             to write!
                             I shall be inspired.
                             I shall turn out elegies and
                             sonnets,
                             Verses by the ton.
                             At last I have a home, and nobody
                             will know,
                             No one in the world,
                             Nobody will know I'm here!
                             I am free! I am free!_
    
    
    
                   INT. DORM ROOM - DAY
    
                   KURT packs up some things in a suitcase.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _Goodbye my friends and good
                             riddance.
                             Pardon while I disappear._
    
    
    
                   INT. JFK AIRPORT - DAY
    
                   KURT pulls his suitcase through the airport as he heads off
                   for his flight. As he walks, the camera PANS UP to the large
                   schedule board. On the board we see **DAYTON : 2:45 : BOARDING**.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _Come see me soon in my hideaway.
                             If you can find me I'm here._
    
    
    
                   INT. AIRPLANE - DAY
    
                   KURT sits by a window on a crowded flight.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _Farewell you blood sucking
                             landlords,
                             Pouring your threats in my ear.
                             Good luck forever to you and yours.
                             If you can find me, I'm here._
    
    
    
                   EXT. DAYTON INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - DAY
    
                   KURT walks out towards an car, towing his bag behind him.
                   Standing by the car is FINN, who looks pretty emotionally
                   wrecked himself. They greet each other M.O.S. FINN hugs KURT
                   and they both seem to break down a little.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _And I'll stay,
                             Cozily hiding by day.
                             During the day I'll resign,
                             Waiting till you go away._
    
    
    
                   EXT. FINN'S CAR - DAY
    
                   KURT looks out the window, watching the trees alongside the
                   hallway quickly blur past, their reflection catching in the
                   glass.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _But at nine,
                             Master of all I survey.
                             Everything gets to be mine to own,
                             Mine to use,
                             Mine to write all the poems I
                             choose.
                             All alone,
                             Only me and my muse,
                             And forty pianos, and ten thousand
                             shoes._
    
    
    
                   EXT. LIMA STREETS - EVENING
    
                   It's dusk. Everything is lit in grayish blues as they drive
                   through town.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _Farewell Neanderthal neighbors,
                             Swilling your pretzels and beer.
                             Fair weather friends will you miss
                             me now?
                             If you can find me I'm here.
                             Goodbye despoilers of beauty,
                             Ruin another career.
                             When you wake up with one genius
                             less,
                             If you can find me I'm here.
                             And I'm free,
                             Free as a bird in a tree.
                             Free as the slippers I wear.
                             Free with a years warrantee._
    
    
    
                   INT. FINN'S CAR - LIMA REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER - EVENING
    
                   They pull up outside of the hospital, and KURT looks up at
                   the big building before him, the same place his father was
                   the first time this happened.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _Free as air.
                             All of these products and me.
                             All that I ask is a chair that
                             tilts,
                             Books to read,
                             Light refreshment before I proceed,
                             And a blazer or maybe a tweed,
                             The barest essentials a poet would
                             need._
    
    
    
                   INT. LIMA REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER - MOMENTS LATER
    
                   They walk into the hospital, past the gift shop, past the
                   front desk, through a small hallway, past the cafeteria, and
                   finally, they reach the elevators.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _Live in your barbarous jungle,
                             screaming for ways to get
                             clear._
    
                   The doors of the elevator close.
    
    
    
                   INT. LIMA REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER - CONTINUOUS
    
                   The doors open in a seamless cut. KURT and FINN walk out, the
                   camera PANS UP to reveal a sign pointing the way towards the
                   Intensive Care Unit.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _When all the screaming has died
                             away,
                             Come and visit my hide away.
                             I will be glad to provide a way,
                             If you can find me..._
    
    
    
                   INT. LIMA REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER - INTENSIVE CARE UNIT -
                   CONTINUOUS
    
                   They walk down the hallway towards the last room. We know
                   it's BURT'S because we can see a distraught looking CAROL
                   standing outside.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _I'm here._
    
                   They walk closer.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.) (CONT'D)
                                 (singing)
                             _I am here._
    
                   CAROL hugs FINN and KURT, and greets them M.O.S.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.) (CONT'D)
                                 (singing)
                             _I am here._
    
                   They open the door to Burt's room.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.) (CONT'D)
                                 (singing)
                             _I am here._
    
    
    
                   INT. LIMA REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER - BURT'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS
    
                   The camera is close on BURT. He is unconscious, and an oxygen
                   tube in his nose. As KURT walks in, the focus shifts from
                   BURT to him. He looks taken aback, horrified seeing his
                   father like this again.
    
                                       THOMAS (V.O.)
                                 (singing)
                             _I am here!_
    
                   And with that, the song comes to its crashing crescendo of a
                   finish.
    
                   The camera PANS past over to the wall, into black.
    
                                                                   FADE TO:
    
    
    
                   INT. HUMMEL AUTO-REPAIR - BURT'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
                   The camera PANS out of black, past the chair at BURT's desk.
                   KURT and DAVE are both sitting on a couch over to the side of
                   the office, a large space in between them.
    
                                       DAVE
                             So you've been back here for four
                             years?
    
                                       KURT
                             Four years.
    
                                       DAVE
                             Jesus. I don't think I could handle
                             that.
    
                                       KURT
                             I had to stay and help take care of
                             my dad. I mean, that's what was
                             most important to me. I had to do
                             it. So I've been back here, pretty
                             much since going back to school and
                             picking up my stuff.
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin
    
                                                              FLASH CUT TO:
    
    
    
                   INT. FINN'S CAR - DAY
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Immigrant Song" CONT'D
    
                                       KURT
                             Do we have to listen to this music
                             the entire way there?
    
                                       FINN
                             What's wrong with Led Zeppelin?
    
                                       KURT
                             If I wanted to listen to some
                             skinny old guy on heroine scream, I
                             would've taken walks through
                             Central Park at night.
    
                                       FINN
                             Robert Plant is AWESOME! Take it
                             back!
    
                                       KURT
                             What?
    
                                       FINN
                             I said take it back.
    
                   KURT raises his eyebrows.
    
                                       KURT
                             I don't think he can hear me, Finn.
    
                                       FINN
                             Whatever, take it back!
    
                                       KURT
                             Fine, continue listening to this,
                             but when it's my turn to drive, I
                             get to pick some music that was
                             created in the last decade. Or at
                             least something that we'll both
                             like.
                                 (beat)
                             And also we need to stop at the
                             nearest gas station so I can pick
                             up a bottle of Excedrin.
    
                                       DAVE (V.O.)
                             You know he's right, though? Led
                             Zeppelin is awesome.
    
                                       KURT (V.O.)
                             Oh Lord God! You too?
    
                                       DAVE (V.O.)
                             I can't help that I have an
                             appreciation for good music.
    
                                       KURT (V.O.)
                             That isn't-
                                 (beat, sigh)
                             Never mind, that's not the point.
    
    
    
                   INT. MOTEL ROOM - LATE EVENING
    
                   The door opens in a cheap, dingy hotel room. KURT and FINN
                   enter. KURT looks disgusted.
    
                                       KURT
                             This place smells like a zombie who
                             chain-smokes menthols.
    
                                       FINN
                             It's not that bad.
    
                                       KURT
                             Finn...
    
                                       FINN
                             It's not. And it's cheap. And we're
                             only gonna be here one night, and
                             we're not gonna be awake for most
                             of that.
    
                                       KURT
                             That's what I'm afraid of. The maid
                             is going to come in tomorrow
                             morning and discover us both
                             devoured by the rats.
    
                                       FINN
                             There aren't any rats. If there
                             were rats it'd be closed.
    
                                       KURT
                             You better be right.
                                 (beat)
                             God, why are we even on this stupid
                             trip? I could've just had Amy pack
                             up the rest of my shit and ship it
                             to me. We shouldn't have left. What
                             if dad-
    
                                       FINN
                             Everything's gonna be fine, Kurt.
                             Mom says she has everything under
                             control.
    
                                       KURT
                             Well...
                                 (beat)
                             I should still be with him!
    
                                       FINN
                             Kurt, it's been a month now. He's
                             not even in the hospital anymore
                             and we've been with him every
                             single day. We could both use this.
                             We need a break.
    
                                       KURT
                             He's my father!
    
                                       FINN
                             And he's the closest thing I've
                             ever had to one, so chill out!
                             Don't act like I don't care about
                             him. We can't just stay there all
                             the time. That's not good for
                             anyone. You're both going to
                             suffocate.
    
                                       KURT
                             Whatever. I'm gonna go call Amy and
                             tell her where we are.
    
                                       FINN
                             Okay, then, do that.
    
                                       KURT
                             Fine.
    
                                       FINN
                             Fine.
    
                   KURT walks outside, and slams the door behind him. FINN sits
                   down on the bed when the door quickly opens again, and KURT
                   pops his head in, phone to his ear.
    
                                       KURT
                             Fine!
    
                   And with that, he closes the door behind him.
    
    
    
                   INT. MOTEL ROOM - HOURS LATER
    
                   KURT sits on one bed, FINN on the other. KURT flips through
                   channels on the television.
    
                                       KURT
                             There is nothing decent on. They
                             even have HBO but all that's on is
                             some preachy documentary about the
                             public school system.
    
                   FINN looks over at KURT.
    
                                       FINN
                             We've come a long way, you know?
    
                                       KURT
                             What?
    
                                       FINN
                             We've come a long way.
    
                                       KURT
                             How do you mean?
    
                                       FINN
                             I don't know. You used to have this
                             big crush on me, and-
    
                                       KURT
                             I didn't have-
    
                                       FINN
                                 (amused)
                             Yes you did.
    
                                       KURT
                             Yeah, well, that was a long time
                             ago.
    
                                       FINN
                             That's what I'm sayin'. We've come
                             a long way. You had a crush on me
                             and were always, like, scheming up
                             ways to be close to me, and I was
                             this dick and I called you-
                                 (pause)
                             You know.
    
                                       KURT
                             Yes, I seem to remember.
    
                                       FINN
                             It's just-
                                 (beat)
                             Look at us now. We're on a road
                             trip together, and...
                                 (beat)
                             You're my brother.
    
                   KURT looks over at him. His expression his curious.
    
                                       KURT
                             Where did this sudden burst of
                             sincerity come from?
    
                                       FINN
                             I don't know. That fight earlier.
                             That was, like, a legit brother
                             fight. I mean, I wanted to punch
                             your face in the moment, but it's
                             pretty cool.
    
                                       KURT
                             Um, our fight was pretty cool?
    
                                       FINN
                             Yeah. I don't know. I like having a
                             brother. I love you, Kurt.
    
                   KURT looks over at him with a bemused smile.
    
                                       KURT
                             Too much. Go to bed. We have to get
                             up at like 4:00. We have five more
                             hours to go.
    
                   KURT turns out the light, and switches off the TV.
    
                                       FINN
                             What? I'm serious. If I die in my
                             sleep or something, I'd want the
                             last thing I told you to be that I
                             loved you.
    
                                       KURT
                             Well, thank you, Finn. Now go to
                             sleep.
    
                                       FINN
                                 (sighing)
                             Alright, then. Good night.
    
                   He's visibly uncomfortable by this exchange, but his face
                   looks a little guilty.
    
                                       KURT
                             Good night.
                                 (beat, softly)
                             I love you too, I guess.
    
                                       FINN
                                 (pause)
                             I knew it.
    
                   KURT laughs.
    
                                       KURT
                             Go to sleep.
    
                                       FINN
                             G'night.
    
                   KURT settles down.
    
                                                             FADE TO BLACK.
    
                                                                   FADE IN:
    
    
    
                   EXT. NEW YORK CITY - DAY
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Rebel, Rebel" by David Bowie.
    
                   FINN's car travels through the streets of NEW YORK, across
                   the MANHATTAN BRIDGE.
    
    
    
                   INT. FINN'S CAR - CONTINUOUS
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Rebel, Rebel" CONT'D
    
                   FINN looks up at all the buildings as KURT drives.
    
                                       FINN
                             Holy shit. They're all so tall.
    
                                       KURT
                             Finn, you've  been here
                             before.
    
                                       FINN
                             I know, but I sorta forgot how
                             awesome it was.
                                 (beat)
                             Also, good music!
    
                                       KURT
                             I told you!
    
                                       FINN
                             Whatever. I want pizza. Like, a
                             real New York slice of pizza that's
                             like the size of my head.
    
                                       KURT
                             We can get pizza, but we have to
                             take it to my dorm. We need to be
                             ready to leave tomorrow morning.
    
                                       FINN
                             That's fine.
                                 (beat)
                             So, is it just gonna be you and me,
                             or is anyone else going to help us
                             pack all your shit?
    
                                       KURT
                             I don't have that much!
    
                                       FINN
                             Yes you do. I had to help you pack
                             when you moved, remember? I can
                             only imagine that it's tripled
                             after two years here.
    
                                       KURT
                             I don't have that much!
    
                                       FINN
                             Whatever. Are any of your friends
                             helping us?
    
                                       KURT
                             Amy is.
    
                                       FINN
                             Is she the friend that came with
                             you to Thanksgiving last year? I
                             think she had a crush on me.
    
                                       KURT
                             I think you had a crush on
                             her.
    
                                       FINN
                             What?
    
                                       KURT
                             You heard me!
    
                                       FINN
                             What?! She did. I didn't. Shut up!
    
                                       KURT
                                 (slyly)
                             Why so defensive, then?
    
                                       FINN
                             I'm not defensive, I'm just sayin'.
    
                                       KURT
                             Sure you are.
    
    
    
                   INT. KURT'S DORM ROOM - EVENING
    
                   KURT, FINN, and AMY are packing KURT's thing in his room.
                   There are clothes out on his bed, and boxes all around. "Bang
                   A Gong" by T. Rex is playing on the stereo.
    
                                       AMY
                                 (holding a load of clothes
                                  on hangers from Kurt's
                                  closet)
                             Why do you have to be such a
                             clotheshorse?
    
                   KURT looks up at her after zipping an outfit in a garment
                   bag.
    
                                       KURT
                             I'm not a clotheshorse! I just like
                             them.
    
                                       AMY
                             There is a difference in liking
                             clothes and being addicted.
    
                                       FINN
                                 (holding another large
                                  pile of clothes, less
                                  carefullly)
                             And this is it.
    
                                       KURT
                             FINN! Don't hold them like that,
                             you're gonna wrinkle them.
    
                   FINN dumps the pile on the bed.
    
                                       KURT (CONT'D)
                             FINN!
                                 (beat)
                             And I'm not addicted! I went to a
                             private school for two years! I had
                             to wear the same thing as everyone
                             else every day!
    
                                       AMY
                             I know. And now you're like one of
                             those Amish kids who dies from
                             alcohol poisoning during
                             Rumspringa.
    
                   There is a knock on his dorm room door.
    
                                       KURT
                             Who is it?
    
                                       THOMAS
                             It's Thomas.
    
                   KURT shoots AMY a "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" look.
    
                                       AMY
                                 ("whatever")
                             I may have told Thomas you were
                             coming.
    
                                       FINN
                                 (confused)
                             Who is Thomas?
    
                   KURT stands up and walks over and opens the door for THOMAS.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Hey.
    
                                       FINN
                             Hey.
    
                                       KURT
                             He wasn't talking to you, Finn!
    
                                       FINN
                             Just saying hello!
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Hi, Finn. Kurt's told me a lot
                             about you.
    
                                       FINN
                             Oh, really? He's told me absolutely
                             nothing about you.
                                 (to Kurt)
                             Why is that, Kurt?
    
                                       AMY
                             Yeah, why is that, Kurt?
    
                   KURT laughs sarcastically.
    
                                       KURT
                                 (to Thomas)
                             Don't mind Finn. He didn't learn to
                             tell time 'til he was
                             seventeen-
    
                                       FINN
                                 (interrupting)
                             I was seven, not seventeen!
    
                                       KURT
                             And, well, you know Amy.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Yeah. Well, it's good to meet you,
                             Finn.
    
                                       AMY
                             What, it's not nice to see me?
    
                                       THOMAS
                                 (sarcastically)
                             Not usually, no.
    
                                       AMY
                             Ha-ha-ha! Funny boy.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I know. My wit is forever
                             unmatched.
                                 (pause)
                             Hey, listen, I know you guys are in
                             packing mode, but can I borrow Kurt
                             for a little bit?
    
                                       KURT
                                 (maybe a little too eager)
                             Sure.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Okay.
    
                                       FINN
                             Uh, wait a second! We're packing!
                             You're not bailing on us and
                             leaving us to pack up all your
                             shit.
    
                                       AMY
                             Let 'em go Finn.
                                 (airily)
                             Homosexuals are like butterflies.
                             Hold them too tightly and you'll
                             crush them, too loose and they'll
                             fly away.
    
                                       KURT
                                 (rolling his eyes,
                                  laughing)
                             Please stop!
                                 (to Thomas)
                             Okay, let's go.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Okay.
    
                   He smiles and exits. KURT begins to follow when:
    
                                       AMY
                                 (her best June Cleaver
                                  impression)
                             Bye, darling. Don't forget the
                             Astroglide!
    
                   KURT turns to her with a huge shit eating grin and gives her
                   the finger.
    
    
    
                   INT. THOMAS' DORM ROOM - EVENING
    
                   THOMAS and KURT and THOMAS sit on the bed, making out. 
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Satellite of Love" by Lou Reed
    
                   They continue to kiss as they talk.
    
                                       KURT
                                 (breathing hard)
                             I missed you.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I missed you too, baby.
    
                                       KURT
                                 (laughing lightly)
                             Oh God! Please don't call me that.
    
                                       THOMAS
                                 (smiling)
                             What? I like calling you that?
    
                                       KURT
                             I don't know. I just don't know why
                             or how that ever became a thing.
                             Who wants to be compared to an
                             infant when you're...
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I'm not comparing you to an infant!
                             It's just something people say.
    
                                       KURT
                             Okay, well, maybe not to me, but
                             let's not get hung up on that right
                             now. This is fun.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Yeah, it is.
    
                   THOMAS slides his hand up KURT's shirt.
    
                                       KURT
                             That's nice.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Yeah?
    
                   They kiss for a little while longer before KURT begins to
                   talk again.
    
                                       KURT
                             So...
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Yeah?
    
                   He moves his lips down to KURT's neck.
    
                                       KURT
                             What are we gonna do when I move
                             back?
    
                                       THOMAS
                             What do you mean?
    
                                       KURT
                             I mean, when I go back to Ohio.
                             What are we gonna do? I have to
                             stay with my dad, and-
    
                   THOMAS backs up and looks at him curiously, as if he can't
                   believe what he's hearing.
    
                                       THOMAS
                                 (snarling his nose)
                             You're thinking about your dad
                             right now?
    
                                       KURT
                             Gross! No. Not like...
                                 (beat)
                             I just think we need to back up a
                             second and talk.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I don't wanna talk. I haven't seen
                             you in a month. I wanna fuck you.
    
                                       KURT
                             I know, it's been a while, and we
                             will, I just think we need to talk
                             first.
    
                   THOMAS leans back against the wall and sighs.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Fine. Talk.
    
                                       KURT
                             Well, you don't have to be a dick
                             about it!
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I'm sorry. I'm not-
                                 (beat)
                             I'm not trying to be a dick, I just
                             haven't seen you in a month. I
                             haven't had sex in a month. But
                             okay. If you wanna talk, we can
                             talk.
    
                                       KURT
                             Thank you.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             You're welcome.
    
                                       KURT
                             I just... I like you. A lot. I know
                             we haven't really "defined" us yet,
                             but-
                                 (beat)
                             I'm leaving tomorrow morning, and I
                             want to know what we are, and what
                             we're doing. For real. We've fooled
                             around, and it's been fun, but I
                             like talking to you too. I want to
                             know, before I go, what are we? Are
                             you my boyfriend? Are we just
                             Friends With Benefits? Are we
                             exclusive? We need to talk about
                             this, face to face, and since,
                             honestly, this is probably going to
                             be the last time we're face to face
                             for a while, I don't think we
                             should hold off on it. It's maybe a
                             tough conversation, but it's a
                             conversation I think we have to
                             have.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I don't know. I mean. I like you,
                             but-
                                 (beat)
                             Like you said, this is probably the
                             last time we're gonna be face to
                             face for a while. Hell, maybe ever.
                             I graduate in 4 months. I don't
                             know where I'm gonna be when you
                             come back, or if you even will come
                             back. It's been fun, I like you,
                             but I don't want to just sit
                             around. I'm 22 years old, and I
                             don't want to hold myself back from
                             anything because I have a boyfriend
                             who I haven't seen in 6 months.
    
                                       KURT
                             Oh.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Yeah.
    
                                       KURT
                             Kind of a mood killer.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be a
                             dick, honestly, but is that what
                             you want? To just sit around,
                             alone, not letting anyone else in
                             because you have a boyfriend in
                             some other place? I mean, we could
                             do the non-exclusive thing, but
                             let's not kid ourselves, someone
                             always gets hurt there. I think...
                             I don't want to cut us off, but if
                             you won't be here, and I won't be
                             there, I don't think it's fair to
                             either of us to just sit and wait
                             around for the other one to be
                             there.
    
                                       KURT
                             I guess you're right. I just...
                                 (pause)
                             I like you. A lot. I don't really
                             want this to end.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I don't either, but...
                                 (beat)
                             I mean we can still be friends.
    
                   And there it is, one of the most dreaded words during an
                   important relationship talk: FRIENDS. KURT heaves a SIGH.
    
                                       KURT
                             Yeah...
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I mean, if we're honest, that's all
                             we'd be if we were doing the long
                             distance shit. You there, me here,
                             talking. That's it. Except the
                             stakes are so much higher that
                             someone would definitely get hurt.
    
                                       KURT
                             You're right. I just...
                                 (beat)
                             We've had a lot of fun. I don't
                             really want it to end.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I don't either.
    
                                       KURT
                             Yeah.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             But I guess it has to. I mean, real
                             life, you know? Shit happens, and
                             you gotta take care of it. Family's
                             more important than anything.
    
                                       KURT
                             So...
                                 (beat)
                             This is it?
    
                                       THOMAS
                             I guess it is. But I mean, we still
                             have tonight, though, right?
    
                   KURT thinks this over for a bit, deep in thought. He wears an
                   expression of uncertainty that shifts when he looks over at
                   THOMAS.
    
                                       KURT
                                 (upbeat)
                             Yeah, we still have tonight.
    
                   THEY KISS, and lay back on THOMAS' bed.
    
                                                             FADE TO BLACK.
    
                                                                   FADE IN:
    
    
    
                   EXT. NEW YORK CITY - SIDEWALK IN FRONT OF NYU - MORNING
    
                   FINN's car is loaded down with boxes. In the backseat, in the
                   trunk. Everything is packed, and KURT is saying his goodbyes. 
    
                   KURT hugs THOMAS. They give each other a small peck on the
                   lips.
    
                                       KURT
                             Bye, Thomas.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Bye, Kurt.
                                 (softly, so only Kurt can
                                  hear)
                             I'm sorry this couldn't work out.
                             For both of us.
    
                   KURT gives him a gentle smile.
    
                                       KURT
                             Maybe we'll meet again someday.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Maybe...
    
                   THOMAS smiles at KURT.
    
                                       KURT
                             Bye.
    
                   He turns to AMY. She's crying, and KURT begins to tear up as
                   well.
    
                                       KURT (CONT'D)
                             Jesus. Stop it!
    
                                       AMY
                             I'm gonna miss you so much, you
                             little asshole! I can't believe
                             you're leaving me alone with all of
                             these douchebags. Who am I gonna
                             talk shit about people with now?
    
                                       KURT
                             Thomas?
    
                                       AMY
                             Oh, okay, but then who will I talk
                             shit about Thomas with?
    
                                       THOMAS
                             Um, what?
    
                                       AMY
                             Shh! Stay out of this, lady bangs!
    
                   KURT laughs.
    
                                       KURT
                             You know, I get cell signal in
                             Ohio. It's not like I'm never going
                             to talk to you again.
    
                                       AMY
                             Still not the same.
    
                                       KURT
                             I know.
    
                   She hugs KURT incredibly tight, and he hugs her back.
    
                                       AMY
                             I love you.
    
                                       KURT
                             I love you, too.
    
                                       AMY
                             Call me as soon as you get home.
    
                                       KURT
                             I'll probably call you before that,
                             but okay.
    
                   She laughs.
    
                                       AMY
                             Okay.
    
                   A BEAT goes by and they're still hugging.
    
                                       KURT
                             Bye, Amy.
    
                                       AMY
                             I'll miss you.
    
                                       KURT
                             I know.
    
                   FINN checks the time on his phone.
    
                                       FINN
                                 (trying to be sensitive
                                  about it)
                             Kurt, sorry, but uh, we gotta go.
    
                                       KURT
                             Yeah, I know.
    
                                       AMY
                             I love you.
    
                                       KURT
                             I know. I love you, too. You're
                             gonna visit, right?
    
                                       AMY
                             Absolutely.
    
                                       KURT
                             Okay, good.
    
                   They finally break apart, and KURT walks towards the car as
                   FINN climbs in the driver's seat.
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Orange Sky" by Alexi Murdoch
    
                                       FINN
                             Bye, guys. Nice to meet you,
                             Thomas.
    
                                       THOMAS
                             You too.
    
                   KURT climbs into the passenger seat without a word, and they
                   begin to drive away. KURT looks out at them. He waves and
                   they wave back.
    
    
    
                   INT. FINN'S CAR - CONTINUOUS
    
                   ANGLE ON: The rearview mirror. Their reflection in the mirror
                   drifts further and further away as FINN drives, until
                   finally, they drop out of view completely.
    
                   KURT sees them disappear, and he breaks. He is crying hard,
                   and he wipes away his eyes.
    
                                       FINN
                             You okay?
    
                                       KURT
                             Yeah, I'm fine.
    
                   We can see by his face, though, that he isn't.
    
                                                             FADE TO BLACK.
    
                                                                   FADE IN:
    
    
    
                   INT. MERCEDES' APARTMENT - NIGHT
    
                   SNOW falls outside the window. We PULL BACK and see Christmas
                   decorations.
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Auld Lang Syne" by Mairi Campbell And DAVE
                   Francis
    
                   We're at a New Year's Eve party. KURT stands with MERCEDES
                   and ANTHONY at a table with a bunch of liquor bottles on it.
                   ANTHONY looks at his watch while KURT sips out of a red cup.
                   The dialogue of the scene is low under the music.
    
                                       ANTHONY
                             It's time!
    
                   Everyone looks around at him. We PAN past a TV showing a 10
                   second countdown, the ball about to drop in Times Square.
                   MERCEDES turns to KURT and mouths "you okay?" He nods, and
                   she walks over and puts her arm around Anthony. Everyone
                   begins to count down, and they all seem to have someone but
                   KURT.
    
                                       EVERYONE
                             FIVE! FOUR!
    
                   KURT gets his phone out of his pocket.
    
                   CU: The phone shows a picture of CAROL on the screen. KURT
                   slides his thumb across the screen to answer it.
    
                                       KURT
                             Hello? Carol? Everything okay?
    
                                       EVERYONE
                             THREE!
    
                                       CAROL (V.O.)
                             Kurt...
    
                                       EVERYONE
                             TWO!
    
                                       CAROL (V.O.)
                             No... It's your dad. He...
    
                                       EVERYONE
                             ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!
    
                   The sound of celebration overtakes the dialogue. We can see
                   KURT's face fall as he turns to run out of the apartment. He
                   runs through the crowd of celebrators, and MERCEDES and
                   ANTHONY notice him as he runs past. He skips the coat rack,
                   going out in only a long sleeve shirt. MERCEDES runs after
                   him.
    
    
    
                   INT. LIMA REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER - ER - LATER
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Auld Lang Syne" CONT'D
    
                   The camera PANS past the people in the waiting room - CAROL,
                   FINN, MERCEDES, KURT - They all look nervous, sad, shaken. It
                   then PANS past them to the entrance of the ER, where RACHEL
                   BERRY and JESSE ST. JAMES run in, seemingly still home for
                   Christmas break. RACHEL runs over to KURT and hugs him. JESSE
                   pats him on the shoulder. RACHEL sits down next to KURT. FINN
                   looks over and shares an awkward glance with JESSE and RACHEL.
                   RACHEL rests her head on KURT's shoulder. The camera PANS UP
                   into a light. WHITE overtakes the screen.
    
                                                                    CUT TO:
    
    
    
                   INT. HUMMEL AUTO-REPAIR - BURT'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
                   The screen is completely white when the camera PANS DOWN from
                   the light on the ceiling. KURT and DAVE are still sitting on
                   the couch. KURT has scooted a little closer to DAVE now.
    
                                       DAVE
                             It happened on New Year's Eve?
    
                                       KURT
                             Yeah...
    
                                       DAVE
                             I'm so sorry.
    
                                       KURT
                             What can you do. These kinds of
                             things don't really take off
                             holidays.
    
                                       BURT (V.O.)
                             I want you to know, that if
                             anything were to ever happen to
                             me...
                                 (beat)
                             I love you, Kurt.
    
                                                                    CUT TO:
    
    
    
                   INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - EVENING
    
                   KURT sits with BURT in a hospital room. BURT looks pale and
                   weak. KURT just looks tired and like he hasn't changed his
                   clothes in days.
    
                                       KURT
                             Dad! Don't say stuff like that.
    
                   BURT sighs.
    
                                       BURT
                             I just want you to know.
                                 (beat)
                             You look awful.
    
                                       KURT
                             Gee, thanks.
    
                                       BURT
                             Have you been home?
    
                                       KURT
                             Once or twice.
    
                                       BURT
                                 (doubtfully)
                             Really?
    
                                       KURT
                             No.
    
                                       BURT
                             Carol said your friends were all
                             going to IHOP. You should go with
                             them.
    
                                       KURT
                             I'm fine.
    
                                       BURT
                             Kurt, you can't just stay here.
                             It's not good for you.
    
                                       KURT
                             I don't want to leave you.
    
                                       BURT
                             Kurt, I'm a grown-up. I'll be okay.
    
                                       KURT
                             You weren't last time.
    
                                       BURT
                             Kurt...
                                 (beat)
                             That would've happend whether you'd
                             been there or not.
    
                                       KURT
                             So, I choose to be here.
    
                                       BURT
                             Kurt, go. Go. You need to get out
                             of this hospital. It's depressing.
                             I'd get out if they'd let me.
    
                                       KURT
                             If I wanted to go, I'd-
    
                                       BURT
                             KURT! Go! Go be with your friends
                             for an hour, go have lunch, and
                             come back. Tell Carol to go too.
                             She doesn't need to be here all the
                             time either.
    
                   KURT looks a little stunned at his father's raised voice.
    
                                       KURT
                             Okay, then. I'll go.
    
                   KURT stands up, wordlessly leaving the room. BURT calls to
                   him.
    
                                       BURT
                             Kurt!
    
                                       KURT
                             Yes?
    
                                       BURT
                             Remember what I said. If... if
                             anything happens.
    
                                       KURT
                             Dad!
    
                                       BURT
                             What? I'm just sayin', Kurt. I
                             mean, you could walk out that door
                             and the elevator could collapse
                             five stories and crush you. Do you
                             want the last thing that you-
    
                                       KURT
                             Fine! Dad...
                                 (heartfelt)
                             I love you.
    
                   He walks over to his dad and hugs him. BURT reaches up and
                   kisses KURT on the forehead. KURT smiles at him, and begins
                   to walk out the door. He turns back to his father.
    
                                       KURT (CONT'D)
                             I'll see you when I get back?
    
                   BURT smiles at him.
    
                                       BURT
                             I love you, kid.
    
                   KURT smiles back, and turns to leave.
    
    
    
                   INT. IHOP - DAY
    
                   KURT, MERCEDES, ANTHONY, CAROL, FINN, RACHEL, and JESSE all sit around
                   at a long booth by a window facing the sidewalk adjacent to
                   the entrance. They all seem to be having a decent time
                   catching up, except for KURT and CAROL, both of whom look
                   distant.
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Think I'll Go Inside" by Joshua Radin
                   [playing on the speakers in the restaurant]
    
                                       KURT (V.O.)
                             I think deep down I knew. I just
                             sat there, all through lunch, with
                             this huge cloud over me, and I
                             think it's because I knew. I knew
                             what was about to happen. I knew
                             that I'd talked to my dad for the
                             last time.
    
                   CAROL's phone rings. KURT meets eyes with her. They share a
                   knowing look, and both begin to softly cry. The others don't
                   seem to notice at first, until CAROL quickly walks outside to
                   answer the phone. They watch her through the window. They see
                   CAROL begin to sob on the sidewalk. FINN runs out to his mom,
                   and MERCEDES and RACHEL tightly hug a crying KURT. JESSE
                   stands up, pulling out his wallet and motioning to the
                   waitress for the check. He hands her some cash, and we see
                   him tell her:
    
                                       JESSE
                                 (M.O.S.)
                             Keep the change.
    
                   They all walk outside, and JESSE grabs onto KURT's shoulder as
                   they go.
    
                                                                    CUT TO:
    
    
    
                   INT. HUMMEL AUTO-REPAIR - BURT'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Think I'll Go Inside" CONT'D
    
                                       KURT
                             My dad died in a hospital bed,
                             alone.
    
                   DAVE looks at KURT with sadness in his eyes.
    
    
    
                   INT. STANTON MEMORIAL FUNERAL HOME - PARLOR - DAY
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Think I'll Go Inside" CONT'D
    
                   The scene progresses M.O.S.
    
                                       KURT (V.O.)
                             That was three days ago.
    
                   We see the scene from the previous chapter. KURT confronting
                   DAVE, telling him to go...
    
    
    
                   EXT. STANTON MEMORIAL FUNERAL HOME - DAY
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Think I'll Go Inside" CONT'D
    
                   ...To DAVE's soliloquy to KURT outside the funeral home in
                   the snow.
    
                                       KURT (V.O.)
                             And then you were here.
    
    
    
                   INT. STANTON MEMORIAL FUNERAL HOME - CHAPEL - DAY
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Think I'll Go Inside" CONT'D
    
                   Now it's a scene we haven't seen before. The camera PANS past
                   KURT in the front pew of the funeral chapel as someone
                   delivers a sermon from the pulpit. KURT's head is down. He
                   isn't paying much attention to the person speaking. He's in
                   his own head. Tears drip down off his face onto his hands.
    
                                       KURT (V.O.)
                             And I'm listening to this guy say a
                             bunch of words that I don't even
                             believe...
    
    
    
                   EXT. GRAVEYARD - DAY
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Think I'll Go Inside" CONT'D
    
                   The snow is falling all over the grounds. Gravestones are
                   coated in white.
    
                                       KURT (V.O.)
                             And then I'm burying my father.
                             It's just...
    
                   The camera PANS past KURT. The screen goes dark as the camera
                   gets close to his jacket.
    
                                                             FADE TO BLACK.
    
                                                                   FADE IN:
    
    
    
                   INT. HUMMEL AUTO-REPAIR - BURT'S OFFICE - NIGHT
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "Think I'll Go Inside" CONT'D
    
                   The camera PANS out of a shelf. DAVE's arm is on the back of
                   the couch, behind KURT.
    
                                       KURT
                             ...I don't think there could be
                             anything that felt that bad, that
                             felt worse than seeing the person
                             who raised you lowered into the
                             ground. It's awful. And I've been
                             through it twice.
    
                   DAVE looks down at the ground.
    
                                       DAVE
                                 (somber)
                             I know what it feels like to bury
                             someone you love. It's not the
                             same, but... My brother died when I
                             was seven.
    
                                       KURT
                             Really?
    
                                       DAVE
                             Yeah. I mean, I know it's nothing
                             like your dad, or your mom, but-
                                 (beat)
                             It fucking hurts. And it still
                             hurts.
                                 (beat, off Kurt's nervous
                                  look)
                             But it gets easier. It happens, and
                             you don't think you'll ever feel
                             this bad again, but you'll never
                             feel good again either. Then you
                             wake up on day two, shockingly,
                             it's worse. Day three, that might
                             be the worst, at least at first.
                             But as it goes by, it gets a little
                             easier to distract yourself. There
                             are people around, relatives,
                             everyone's talking, and sometimes
                             you wanna get away from it, but
                             sometimes you just want to sink
                             into it, because it's not thinking.
                             It's not your head. Then day four
                             comes...
                                 (beat)
                             And everything's a little bit
                             easier. It still hurts, but it's a
                             hurt you can deal with. It's a hurt
                             you can live through.
                                 (beat)
                             And that's just me, but... 
                                 (beat)
                             Maybe you'll wake up tomorrow, and
                             it'll be a hurt that you can live
                             with.
    
                   KURT laughs softly.
    
                                       KURT
                             This is strange.
    
                                       DAVE
                             What?
    
                                       KURT
                             I don't know... 
                                 (beat)
                             You. Here. Me. I mean...
                                 (beat)
                             I would have never thought of this
                             as you.
                                 (beat)
                             You're not the person I thought you
                             were.
    
                   DAVE smiles at him, warmly, with gratitude.
    
                                       DAVE
                             Thank you.
    
                   KURT smiles back. He looks around the room.
    
                                       KURT
                                 (pause)
                             I don't know why I came here. God,
                             that was so stupid.
    
                                       DAVE
                             No it wasn't. You're just...
                                 (beat)
                             Normal.
                                 (beat)
                             It's memories. We hold on to them
                             as tight as we can, especially when
                             we lose what we're remembering.
                                 (beat)
                             Do you wanna go?
    
                   KURT looks around once more. He turns to DAVE.
    
                                       KURT
                             I think so.
    
                                       DAVE
                              Okay, then.
    
                   They stand to walk out. Kurt takes one last glance at the
                   pictures on the desk. KURT flips off the light, filling the
                   screen with darkness.
    
    
    
                   EXT. HUMMEL AUTO-REPAIR - NIGHT
    
                   The street is quiet. Serene. Dave walks to the other side of
                   the car, opening the door for Kurt.
    
                                       DAVE
                             So, where do you wanna go?
    
                                       KURT
                             I don't know. Anywhere, really.
                             Just not here.
    
                                       DAVE
                             I can do that.
    
                                       KURT
                             Okay.
    
                                       DAVE
                             Okay.
    
                   **MUSIC CUE:** "If You See Her, Say Hello" by Bob Dylan
    
                   The car sets off down the street. We pan up to watch it
                   leave. Everything is a warm and hazy gold that only happens
                   when the snow makes everyone and everything slow down.
    
                   We pan back towards the door, push in and:
    
                                                               DISSOLVE TO:
    
    
    
                   INT. HUMMEL AUTO-REPAIR - CONTINUOUS
    
                   We pan through everything inside. Past rims mounted on the
                   wall. Past framed certificates to comfort the customers.
                   Then, down the small hall Dave walked through before, back
                   towards the office we were just in. Everything's lit in a
                   cool, wintery dark blue. Darkness. No one is here now.
                   Finally, we stop just before pushing inside the office. The
                   door is open. Behind the desk is an office chair, and we can
                   still se the imprint left in it. Years of sitting. But now
                   it's empty. Left alone, the one who left his shape gone for
                   ever. It is emptiness we can not only see: We can feel it.
    
                                                             FADE TO BLACK.
    
    
                                   **END OF CHAPTER**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created a [YouTube playlist](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLL98TxtNRfi2FxzDorEm3-WhFk8EVt5XE) with every song (and one cover) featured in the script. You can listen to it after, or while you read along. Also, I just wanted to mention, this was all written before the tragic death of Cory Monteith. The conversation in the motel room was not a reaction to this, or meant to trigger or sadden anyone. I tried to make the script look right, and this is the first time working with styles on AO3. Hopefully it looks right for everyone. It's why it took so long for me to post this here.


	9. Shelter from the Storm

"How many people do you think have masturbated in here?"

"What?" Dave asked, amused by his own shock at Kurt's question.

Fifteen minutes ago they were sitting in an office in the back of a garage, and now they were in the doorway to Dave's hotel room.

"How many people do you think have masturbated here?" Kurt repeated.

"I... What kind of question is that?" he asked, as he took of his coat and threw it over onto the arm of the couch.

"C'mon, you don't think about stuff like that? You're lying here, in this bed, and you're not wondering how many people have pleasured themselves to bad pay-per-porn?" Kurt responds as he removes his coat more carefully, straightening out the wrinkles as he hangs it on a hook by the door.

"Well, I wasn't, but..."

"Think about it. You're not the first person here. Surely somebody's done it."

"I don't know. Do I have to think about it?"

"Well, no, you don't have to, I just think they're kind of strange, hotel rooms. They always are a little bit creepy to me."

"Why's that?" he asks as he watches Kurt plop down on the red couch. Dave takes a seat in the office chair at the desk.

"Yes. Hundreds of thousands of people have probably stayed in this room. For all we know, this room could've been host to a number of things. Some guy could've cheated on his wife here, or some high school couple lost their virginity here after promising each other a special prom night... Somebody could've even died here."

"I don't think anyone's died here," he says as he smiles. He reaches into a leather bag by the desk, pulls out his laptop, and presses a small button on the side to check the battery life.

"They could've. A real Chelsea Hotel Room 100 situation, stabbed 7 times with a kitchen knife."

"You're fucked up," Dave laughs.

"I can be a bit morbid at times, when I wanna be."

"So it would seem. Anyway, the Marriott is hardly the Hotel Chelsea."

"This room has a lot of ghosts is all I'm sayin'."

"You think my hotel room is haunted?" Dave asks, flipping open the computer.

"Not in like an Amityville kind of way, no, but just-" He pauses as a chord rings out at the startup of Dave's computer. He sends Dave an angry glare out of the corner of his eye. "Anyway! There are thousands of memories that take place in this room. Happy ones, sad ones, and probably just bland ones about how much someone hated the scratchy comforter with the cheap floral print on it. Those kinds of ghosts. Just memories. The good kind of ghosts, I guess. That's what all ghosts are, really. Just memories."

"Maybe that's why everyone is so afraid of them. No one likes the past."

"Exactly. They're even more afraid of that than they are of the future."

Dave shifts his weight nervous, his fingers twitching against the lining of his pockets. This is it, the great truth: the past is even scarier than the future. Everything about the future we're afraid of, we're afraid of because of the past.

"So, why the sudden interest in your computer there?"

"Sorry... Work stuff."

"Oh... So what is it that you do, exactly?"

"I am a speechwriter. Or... I work for a speechwriter. A deputy to the deputy kind of thing."

"Like  _The West Wing_?"

Dave smiles at him surprised. "You watched  _The West Wing_?"

"The first four seasons. I had a crush on Rob Lowe... Or have. I don't know why I used past tense there. I don't think he ages. He's been drinking unicorn blood or something."

"That's awesome!"

Kurt smiles, and Dave thinks he looks confused as to why this is such a big deal to him. "So that's what you do?"

"Yes... Well, no, but I mean, hopefully. Someday."

"And where do you work now?"

Dave smiles, embarrassed. "I'm not gonna tell you that."

"Why not?"

"You'll laugh."

"No I won't. Pinkie promise."

"I work..." he hesitates. "I work, as a speechwriter, for a grassroots organization called the Stonewall Democrats."

Kurt looks at him in disbelief. "Bullshit!"

Dave glances down at his shoes and laughs. "No, no. It's true."

"Wow. You're... a gay rights organization? You?"

"I've grown up. A lot. I told you this."

"Yeah, but who knew that you'd grown up this much?"

"Well..."

"So... What have you written? Would I have seen some of it on Towleroad?"

"I don't know... Maybe."

"So, let me read some of it!" Kurt demanded.

"Kurt..."

Kurt smiled at him, and it made Dave's heart drop into the pit of his stomach. "Come on! You've gotta be comfortable letting everybody read your work if you wanna be a speechwriter. Let me see something!"

How could he resist when he smiled at him like this? Did he know what he was doing? He had to. No one could get Dave flustered like this without even trying. Though, if anyone were going to do it, it would be Kurt.

"Just your best thing..."

Dave sighed at him. "Fine."

He got on his computer, and pulled up a file in his word processor. "Here you go. This is the first thing I wrote that actually had the majority of it get used."

Kurt sat in front of the laptop and began to read.

Dave watched him as he paced around the room. Back and forth, back and forth... He was never normally this nervous when someone read his work, but he wanted, no, he  _needed_  Kurt to like what he saw. This would be the final straw, the final thing to convince him that he was, in fact, a different person these days. Or at least the best version of the person that he used to be.

He watched Kurt read, nearing the end of the speech.

"You... You wrote this?" Kurt asked.

"That bad?"

"David..."

David. David. David. David. He'd never loved the sound of his own name this much. Not Karofsky, not Dave... David. He called him  _David_.

"You wrote this?"

"Unfortunately, yes. It is my handiwork." Dave joked, looking awkwardly down at the carpet.

"Unfortunately nothing... David, this is incredible."

"Yeah, well, I had help."

Kurt laughed softly. "We're going to have to teach you to take a compliment."

Dave smiled. "Yeah... Sorry."

"You can stop apologizing now."

"Oh... Okay... Sorry."

Kurt looked at him, and Dave felt him giving him the once over, evaluating, calculating, studying... "Dave Karofsky, shaper of great oratory..." Kurt smiled. "Who knew?"

"Yeah, well... I'd hardly call it great."

"I would, David. I would. That was..." Kurt smiled at him, warm, inviting, and it made Dave feel as if he was going to melt completely. This boy was not supposed to look at him with anything but contempt, yet here he was in his hotel room, telling him how good the words he'd written were. "It was just incredible."

"Um... Thank you, I guess. I think it's just low expectations, though. Not really that-"

"David, stop."

Dave laughed. "Sorry... You're right. Can't really take a compliment."

"I also told you to stop apologizing."

"Oh, yeah... Sorry," Dave laughed, and Kurt laughed back.

"You're hopeless!"

"I try."

"It seems that is the case."

They sat for a while, not a sound but the gentle hum of silence. Words, so many that they both wanted to say, seemed to fail them at the moment. Finally, though, Kurt spoke.

"I couldn't have gotten through this night without you," Kurt said to him softly.

"Huh?"

"I couldn't have gotten through this night without you. I... It's 4:30 in the morning, and here I am, in the hotel room of the guy who made my life hell for 2 years, and he's the only thing standing between me and a complete emotional breakdown. Thank you. For being here. For coming here. For saying all the right things at all the right times... You're... You're not him anymore. You're not that guy."

Dave looks down at his feet, unsure of what to say. He felt breathless. "Yeah, well... I'm just... I'm doing what's right. I just thought I should be there for you, after so long... not being. Being the reason other people had to be there for you. If I can... If I am helping, I'm glad. I don't want you to hurt anymore. I think you've hurt enough. If I can help you not hurt, I'm gonna do it."

They sat, their eyes locked in a gaze, when Kurt stood and wrapped his arms around Dave, hugging him tight. "How do you do it? How do you know just exactly what to say? How are you the same human being, but a completely different person all at once?"

"I don't know. Just perfect I guess," he laughs, and Kurt laughs with him. "No, but seriously... I've just... I've been here. I know... Guy falls in a hole kinda thing."

"Your brother... You were just 7 years old?"

"Just 7."

"That's horrible."

"Yeah, well... I think it's probably even worse when you're older, but yeah... I got so sick of You're-Gonna-Be-Okay-Sports and It'll-Get-Better-In-Time-Davids that I just know what bullshit it is. It doesn't get better. It just gets easier to ignore. It'll always be there. The most you can hope for is someone who gets it, and who doesn't mind taking your mind off of it for a while. I don't know, maybe it does get better. Maybe that's how it does. Healing... It's not going back in time and stopping the hurt from occurring, but it covers it up. The skin gets put back together, even if it does leave a mark... Yeah, I know, I'm beating the metaphor to death, but it's the best metaphor there is, because that's what it is. It's a fucking cut, deep down to the bone."

They spent the next hour and a half just talking. Taking about loss, about coming out, about love, and about music.

"My favorite artist of all time... Okay, you'll probably know it, after tonight, but yeah, it's Dylan."

"Of course!"

"Yeah, well... He's been there for me, man. Since I was like 12," Dave said.

"You listened to Dylan when you were 12."

"Yeah... I don't know... It all comes down to the cover for Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. I remember going through these albums at this old record store, and I was looking for some Limp Bizkit shit or something..."

Kurt laughed.

"Yeah, well, I mean, I was 12, so..." Dave chortled in response. "But I was looking through these album covers, and I see it: 'The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, with this picture of just Bobby Zimmerman and Suze Rotolo, walking down the street in Greenwich Village in the middle of the snow, and they look  _happy_. Just purely fucking  _happy_ , and I liked that, and I wanted that. I didn't exactly know what the music would be, but I bought it, which thrilled my mom, who wasn't exactly down with the angry white boy rap-metal manpain, but she always loved stuff like Dylan, and Joni Mitchell, and sometimes she'd come in my room and just stand there in my doorway with this huge smile on her face while I listened to it. I don't know, while I was 12, that was probably the only time I was around her and not screaming. I was kind of a dick, as you can imagine."

"I can imagine," Kurt grins.

Dave laughs. "Yeah, well... So, I liked that, too, that it allowed me this little window to just be with my mom, and love my mom, and not feel like shit all the time because I just sort of... figured it out. I really knew that I liked boys, and so I hated everything because I didn't think boys liked boys and I just wanted to be like my friends. And because of that, there was always this sort of hurt when I'd listen to Dylan too, because I thought I could never have that, that walk down Greenwich Village in the snow with someone who made me happy, because 'surely two boys can't do that!'"

"Oh, believe me, they can. I've spent plenty of time in Greenwich Village. There are boys doing a lot more than walking."

Dave laughed as he played with his thumbs. "I get it now, but then... In Lima Fucking Nowhere, in 6th grade... It was something that was never to be. Gay was just something you called stuff you didn't like, something never to be desired... But I get it now. I can walk down the street with whoever the fuck I want, and if anyone has a problem with it, that's their goddamn issue."

"Preach!"

Dave smiled at him.

"I'm glad you get it now. You... I knew you weren't happy then. How could you be?" Kurt said with sympathy. "But now... You have it together, or at least that's the way it seems. I'm happy for you."

Dave smiled, and paused. They sat in silence, with him unsure of how to progress, when he turned to Kurt and asked, "Who's yours?"

"Mine?"

"Your favorite musician. Who's yours?"

"Oh! Um, wow, that's a big question... To be honest, it changes, a lot. I'm kind of all over the map."

"Well, right now, the music you feel like you could listen to forever..."

"Well, right now? Probably Bowie."

"Seriously?"

"Yes? What, is that bad?" Kurt smiled.

"No... It's just... Unexpected. I figured it was still, like, Gaga or something."

Kurt laughs. "No, not really. I mean I still love Gaga, don't get me wrong, but... That's not really where I live anymore, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"Yeah."

"I've sort of been into the whole 'glam' thing since freshmen year of college. My... This friend, he took me to this midnight showing of Velvet Goldmine, and I was just obsessed with it. Since then, that's been my genre of choice. Bowie, T. Rex, Lou Reed... That just sort of feels like home to me now."

"This just shocks me."

"Oh, come on, it's not  _that_  shocking!"

"It is a little bit, yes, it is," he laughs. "I mean, in high school it was all Gaga and Britney and Patti Lupone – Yes, one of those things is not like the other – and now it's Bowie and Lou Reed!"

"It's not like people like Gaga didn't draw heavily on the glam scene anyway. Even wearing a lightning bolt on her face."

"Wait, if that's indication of glam appreciation, does that mean Harry Potter is-"

He listened to Kurt laugh, and suddenly felt warmth beneath his fingers. Suddenly he was aware of their close proximity. Dave wasn't exactly sure how, but they'd drifted closer and closer to each other as their conversation progressed. Now they were both sitting on the hotel bed, with his hand over Kurt's. Dave looked down at the hand resting beneath his, and the awkward silence engulfed them both.

"Um... Sorry, I didn't mean to-" Dave stammered.

"No! No, um, it's, no, yeah, no, it's okay. No. Yeah..." Kurt comforted quickly. "It's... I already told you..." He paused, and looked intensely at Dave. "I'm glad you're here..."

A palpable tension hovered between the two of them, neither looking away from the other. Dave felt his breath becoming more shallow, and stomach twisting into knots. "I... I wanna... But I don't want it to be like last time. If I'm... If we're gonna... If I'm going to do this, I need to know that it's not just me."

"It's not... David, it absolutely isn't."

_'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood_

"I just.. if I'm gonna do this. If we're gonna do this..."

_When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud_

"I need to know. I need to know that you trust me-"

"I trust you," Kurt quickly interjected.

"I need to know that this isn't just some rash thing that you're going to regret in the morning. I need to know, that..."

"David."

_I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form._

"Kurt, seriously... I need to know... Do you trust me?"

Kurt looked at him, his stare serious and knowing. "I trust you."

_"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortest chapter since the first 3, and that's largely because this is prose, mostly one long scene, and also a lot of dialogue. No flashbacks, no time jumps, it's all linear… This chapter is all about conversation. There are also a few more references to The West Wing, but hey, it's my favorite! (Aaron Sorkin recycles his own dialogue all the time - surely I can reference it!)
> 
> This track on Blood on the Tracks is also the reason I wanted to write my fic around this album - that, and Blood on the Tracks being my favorite Dylan album.


	10. Buckets of Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The end! I hope you all enjoy it. I actually cut some scenes from it that weren't needed/were dragging down the story.

He wakes up to sun shining through a gap between two curtains pulled only halfway closed. His skin is cold beneath the covers. He considers standing to put on the clothes piled in a heap on the floor, but decides against it, instead rolling into the warmth of the person next to him. He looks over at the clock, and it says it's nearly noon. He's only gotten 3 hours of sleep, but feels incredibly content where he is.

He slides his hand down over Kurt's, and Kurt instinctively intwines his fingers around Dave's without even waking. He nuzzles up against Kurt's neck and shifts himself in closer to him, hoping his movement and the breath on the back of Kurt's neck won't wake him. As he gets comfortable, just lying next to the boy he'd wanted to lie next to for so long, his muscles softly loosen, and his eyes begin to drift closed.

* * *

He plows his car through a huge puddle in the corner of a D.C. street, sending a wave of water up onto his windshield and splashing around the car. A Creedence Clearwater Revival song blasts on the classic rock station he's tuned to, and he watches the many monuments stay behind him in a blur.

He slows down behind a sluggish car in front of him, and he picks up the phone, rolling his eyes. He presses a name on the touchscreen, and waits as it dials.

"Hello?" the other boy on the other end of the line answers.

"Hey. What's up?" Dave asks.

"Just getting ready for tomorrow. What time are you leaving?"

"Plane leaves at 4:00, and maybe I'll get there by then if this guy in front of me would FUCKING MOVE!" he yells to the man driving in front of him, knowing full well that he's going unheard. "IT'S CALLED FOURTH GEAR, YOU FUCKASS!" He violently lays on the horn, and the speed of the car in front of him increases ever slightly.

"Anger issues, David," he chides.

"Sorry. I just miss you, is all. Can't wait to see you tonight. Counting down the hours."

"Aww, that's adorable!"

"I know. I'm incredibly lovable. Like a puppy or one of the muppets."

"Maybe even more than one of the muppets."

"God, I'm outranking Kermit the Frog now? I've come a long way. SPEED UP YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"

"Um, I'm assuming those two sentences are not connected."

"No, sorry. It's just this OLD PIECE OF COCK WON'T GO FASTER THAN 40 OR MOVE OUT OF MY WAY. THE SPEED LIMIT IS 55, YOU JACKASS!"

"Yes, you definitely need to come see me, mellow out a bit."

"Yes, I do. I will be there... tonight. And I'll be with you all day tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it. Do you need me to pick you up at the airport?"

"No, that's fine. You don't need to drive 2 hours out of the way just to pick me up. I'll just rent a car or something."

He hears the person on the other end of the line heave a sigh. "Okay, okay... So... Is your dad still...?"

"Yeah, he's still... I... Is that okay? I don't wanna put anybody out or anything, but he's usually all by himself on Thanksgiving, so..."

"It's great! David, yes, it's great. I'm glad. We'll be eating at 4:00 tomorrow, so, if he wants to get there at around 3:00..."

"I'll tell him."

"Okay. So... I'll see you tonight."

"See you then."

"Bye."

"Bye... I..." he stops himself.

"Yes?" the other boy asks curiously.

"I'll see you tonight," Dave stammers.

He cringes as he hangs up the phone, completely displeased with himself.

"Goddammit!" he mutters to himself, alone in his car.

* * *

This time he is woken by Kurt, turned towards him. The feeling of eyes on him pulls him out of his sleep.

"Good morning," Dave says softly, a smile on his face.

"Good morning," Kurt smiles back.

"You're still here."

"Of course I am. Where else would I go?"

"Dunno. Was just worried you'd wise up and bolt while I was sleeping," Dave laughed.

"You underestimate your charm."

Again, he laughed quietly. "Do I, now?"

"Yes, David, I think you do."

Kurt's fingers paw around at his, and he smiles as he feels them gently slide across his. "This was..."

He stops, just looking at Kurt.

"Yeah," Dave whispers.

"Yeah..." Kurt repeats. "So... When are you... When are you going back?"

"Trying to get rid of me already."

"No. Just trying to make the best use of my time is all," Kurt smiles at him.

"Well... I'm supposed to leave tomorrow morning. I have work the next day, so..."

"Oh."

He watches Kurt's face drop.

"Yeah," Dave says. "It's... I mean, I can stay, but it's kind of... There's a big work thing coming up, and I-"

"No, no! You should go when you're supposed to. You're doing important work."

"Are... Are you sure?" he asks apprehensively. "I mean, if you need me to... If you need me to stay, I can. I don't mind. I like being-"

"No, go! You're gonna change the world, and you can't do that if you stay here." Kurt says, upbeat, attempting to mask his disappointment. "We'll just have to make the best of the time we have... If you want to."

Dave smiles at him warmly. "Are you kidding?" He places his hand on Kurt's cheek, and softly plants a kiss on his lips. "Nowhere I'd rather be."

* * *

He walks out of the gate, and into baggage claim when he sees him: Kurt, standing by the conveyor belt with a huge smile on his face. He rolls his eyes, but smiles at him. He walks over to him quickly, wrapping his arms around him and, without hesitation, kisses him in the middle of the crowded airport.

"I missed you," Dave says. As he says this, he looks around and notices some unfriendly stares coming from strangers after their kiss. Seeing this, he smiles before locking hands with him and walking towards his rucksack.

"You're gonna get our asses kicked in the parking lot," Kurt says jokingly, but Dave can sense that he's actually nervous.

He leans in towards Kurt and whispers, "Tell 'em to come at me. I'll beat the shit out of them."

Kurt laughs and rolls his eyes. "Grab your bag, Rocky."

* * *

They were back in the car now, driving through Lima. It was strange for Dave, seeing it in the early afternoon light like this. Dylan's album was again playing on the stereo. "It's weird being back here."

"You get used to it," Kurt says. Dave senses a sadness in his voice.

"This song reminds me of you," he says. "Or... reminded."

 

> _Buckets of rain, buckets of tears_  
>  Got all them buckets comin' out of my ears  
>  Buckets of moonbeams in my hand  
>  You got all the love, honey baby, I can stand

You always had this... this sadness about you. You always seemed really sad, even if you didn't have a reason to be."

"I always had a reason to be."

"Like what?"

"I... Let's not talk about it now."

"Well, I mean... Now you do. You have every reason to be sad, but then, in high school... You had all these friends who loved you, and a family who gave a damn, and knew exactly who you were, and... I never really got it. But I sort of do, now."

"Do you?"

He squints as he drives into the sun, his own conversation making him very uncomfortable. Despite Kurt's assurances that he was saying all the right things, he still felt on edge every moment he was around him, scared he would say something wrong, or that something would come out in a way he didn't mean. "Yeah..." Dave looked out of his driver's side window at the school on the other side of the street, enclosed by a chain-link fence. "It's weird seeing it like that," he said quickly, attempting to change the subject.

"Seeing what?" Kurt asked before noticing exactly where they were. Dave guessed he'd gotten used to driving by the building that used to contain them both, sometimes the worst versions of themselves. "Oh."

"Yeah, it's just..." he watched students walk around the snowy grounds, bustling from class to class as they quickly sped by, finally passing it. "Do you think there are kids there like us?" He nervously cleared his throat after he spoke.. "Some closet case jock asshole with a huge crush on the gay kid in the Glee club?"

Kurt looks over and smirks at him. "Huge crush?"

Dave laughs, shaking his head. "Shut up."

"Huge crush!"

"You know you knew," Dave replies, smiling.

"No idea."

"I was kind of obvious, wasn't I?"

"Maybe you were, but to my credit, I probably suffered some head trauma from-"

"Okay, okay! I get it."

Kurt laughs. "But maybe that jock will move away, and come back a completely different person, and help the glee kid through a really tough time in his life. Maybe, just maybe, they'll get closure."

"I think that'd be nice." Dave looks over at Kurt, almost unable to believe what was happening around him, to him, with him. It was everything he'd wanted as a teenager, and here he was, 7 years later, finally getting it.

They drove a bit further, finally reaching their destination. David pulled into Kurt's driveway and slid the shifted the car into park.

"Why'd we have to come here, exactly?"

"If we're going to go out for breakfast, I don't want to be seen looking like I just rolled out of bed."

"You did just roll out of bed."

"I know, but I don't wanna look like it."

Dave looks at him, and smiles, resigned. "Okay."

"Okay," Kurt replies. "Now, you can stay in the car, if you want, or come in with me, or whatever. I'll need to tell Carol I was with you last night... Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's cool. That's- Wait, like-"

"No, no! I'll just tell her I stayed with you last night, like, as a friend. Needed to get away from people and blah blah blah. She'll be glad to know I wasn't alone."

"Oh. Yeah, okay then. That's cool. I just don't want her to like freak out that you were with a guy or something."

"It's fine. 23 years old. Not much they – she – can say to me now."

"Okay..."

"Alright then."

Dave turns off the key and climbs out of the car. The car begins to ding after he opens the door. He walks up the steps letting Kurt lead the way, to the front porch of a house a lot larger than the one he remembers Kurt living in before his dad married Finn's mom. They step inside, and there's a staircase right by the doorway with a bench sitting near the foot of it.

"You can just sit there. I'm gonna go tell Carol hello."

"Okay," he says, sitting down on the bench by the stairs.

"Carol?" he listens to Kurt call out.

"In the kitchen!" she responds from a room down the hall. Kurt follows her voice, and Dave can softly hear their conversation from across the quiet house.

"Hey," Kurt says.

"Hey. Where've you been all night? You okay?" she asks concerned.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I just had to get out of here, you know? I couldn't handle all the voices."

"I understand. It was a bit much yesterday, all the people here..."

"Yeah, I couldn't handle it. I'm sorry I left you all alone with them," Kurt says, and Dave thinks he sounds truly genuine when he says it.

"It's okay, sweetie. Think Finn missed you though. I think he snuck off to his room while some distant whoever turned his back while he was talking to him."

"Oh. I'll tell him I'm sorry. I hope he'll understand. I just couldn't-"

"I'm sure he will. He's still sleeping, I think. I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you wanted to talk to him. He's having a rough time of it too..." she says. She pauses before asking, "Were you alone all night?"

"Oh, um... No. A friend took me out for a drink, and I sort of crashed with them." Dave notices the use of the 'them' instead of a 'him' and chuckles softly to himself, wondering if Kurt is trying to avoid any awkwardness, which is then answered by his next statement. "My friend David. He came in for the funeral."

"Oh. Do I know this David? He a friend of yours from New York, or..."

"No, I... We went to McKinley together."

"Oh, okay. Well, that was sweet of him to come in. I'm sure your dad would've appreciated it... Were you guys good friends or-"

"Karofsky?" he hears a man's voice say groggily behind him, the close voice cutting of the conversation from the other room. Dave turns and sees Finn standing at the top of the stairs.

"Hey..." Dave says awkwardly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asks, his voice not so much angry as confused.

"Uh... I'm here with... I'm... Sorry. About your stepdad. That sucks," he says, trying to dodge the question, unsure of whether he should tell Finn he's here with Kurt.

"Um... Thanks. So, really, what are you doing here?"

Dave feels pity for Finn. His eyes are red and puffy, and his skin is pale as if he hasn't eaten in a while. "Um..."

"He's here with me," Kurt says from the hall.

"Oh... Are... What?" Finn asks.

"I.. We're friends. Now. We're friends now. Right, David?"

"That's right," Dave grins, trying to lower the tension.

"Oh... Wait, no, what? You're... Huh?"

"Yes, we're friends."

"Okay... But, how did..."

"Don't worry about it, Finn. We're going out for breakfast," Kurt says. "I just have to get dressed and I'll see you later today, okay?"

"Um... Alright." He nods to Dave. "See you, Karofsky."

Dave takes his thumbs out of his coat pocket and holds up a two finger wave goodbye to Finn. "See you." He pauses for a moment before asking, "Hey, you wanna go for breakfast with us?"

Kurt shoots him a look, and Dave slightly shrugs. Finn looks him over before responding. "No. I... I think I'm gonna stay with mom. I don't want her to have to be alone right now."

"Okay," Dave says. "Well... I'll see you."

"See you," Finn says. "But... Uh, thanks for asking."

Dave smiles at him warmly. "No problem, dude. I'll see you."

"See you," Finn responds before turning and walking back into his bedroom.

Kurt turns to Dave. "Okay, I'm going up to change. You wanna..." he says, sending him an invitation upstairs in the form of a nod.

"Um... Sure."

"Okay."

"Okay..."

* * *

Dave sits in the passenger seat as Kurt drives them towards his house in Lima with "Some Kind of Love" by The Velvet Underground playing on the radio.

"I think I'm getting an embolism," Dave mutters.

"What?" Kurt says, his voice sounding alarmed.

"Not really, my legs are just killing me. Too much sitting in one day."

"I'll give you a leg rub when we get home," Kurt says, glancing deviously over at a grinning Dave.

"Not what I was angling for, but okay, okay!"

"And, we're here."

"Yes!" Dave says, hoisting his fist into the air.

"See, I shouldn't have said anything. Now it's all you'll be thinking of."

Dave smiles at him as he grabs his bag from the backseat and exits the passenger door. "Okay, well, we're now, so," he sprawls out, face down, on the hood of the car. "I will take my leg rub now!"

Kurt laughs, pulling him up by the arm.

"I think we'll have to at least wait until we're inside there, skippy."

"I mean, I think this is as good a place as any, so if we could just..."

"Hi, David!" Carol calls from the front door.

Dave quickly composes himself, straightening the rucksack on his back. "Hey, Mrs. Hummel!" Kurt looks at Dave, unable to stop laughing. "How are you this evening?"

"I'm good, I'm good. Glad you could come in for Thanksgiving. Kurt's-"

"Carol!" Kurt quickly interrupts.

"What, Kurt? Let her finish!" he smiles.

"Oh, it's nothing, David. Just glad you could be with us. Is your dad still coming tomorrow?"

His shoulders tense up a little, and he slips his thumbs into his pocket. "As far as I know."

"Well, that's great. We're happy to have both of you."

"Happy to be here," he smiles.

Dave walks upstairs with Kurt after saying hello to Finn, who was glued to the couch, so engrossed in a football game that he barely looked up from the television. They walk into Kurt's room, and his eye is immediately drawn to the Aladdin Sane photo on the wall. After that, he looks at a few things different from the last time he'd been in the room. Stuck in the mirror at Kurt's vanity are two photos, both from Kurt's trip to D.C. last July. The first, a self portrait of the two of them, one of Dave's arms outstretched holding the camera, the other wrapped around Kurt's waist. The other was a shot taken by Dave's friend Sam. It showed the two of them sitting on steps, Kurt's head on Dave's shoulder, Dave's resting against Kurt's, their hands tangled together, and in the background, the Washington Monument with a huge display of fireworks behind it.

"Are you ready for your leg rub?"

"Dave turns to look at Kurt and smiles. "Of course!"

"Okay then," he smirks, turning Dave around. "Lie down. On your belly." Dave obliges, and he sees Kurt pick up a remote on his nightstand. He presses a button, and "Young Americans" starts playing on an iPod dock sitting atop a chest of drawers.

"Nice soundtrack."

"I don't want anyone to hear us," Kurt says, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, really? How loud is this leg rub gonna be."

"Oh, you don't know, it could get pretty loud," Kurt says as he walks over to the door and turns the lock. Dave breathes a laugh, and Kurt climbs onto the bed, in between Dave's outstretched legs. "Now, you'll just have to tell me what feels good." Kurt begins to rub his hands up and down Dave's legs.

"That feels nice."

"Does it?"

"Yeah..." He closes his eyes, letting his sense of touch take him over.

"Well, good. You've had a long day, on planes, in cars..."

"Yeah... Well, I'm glad I'm here now."

"Me too."

"I've seriously missed you, like, a lot."

"I've missed you too. It kinda sucks here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Kurt responds. His touch becomes softer as he slides one of his hands up Dave's pants leg.

"Oh, okay," Dave laughs.

"No good?"

"No, it's awesome... I just... Can you come up here a second?" Dave says, tapping the top of his bed, next to his head.

"Um, okay..." Kurt says, spreading out and lying next to Dave. "What's going on?"

"I... I just wanna look at you, when I say this, and..."

"Say what?"

"I... Okay, I'm gonna say this, and I don't want you to feel any pressure or anything, but I try to make it a point to say what I feel, at least when it comes to important things like this. I've found that nothing good comes from bottling things up, so I just want to tell you, Kurt..." He looks into Kurt's eyes, and rubs his thumb up and down Kurt's ear. "I just want to tell you that... I love you. I love you, Kurt."

"Oh..." Kurt says, sounding slightly shellshocked.

"And I don't want you to feel like you have to say it to me or anything, but... We've been doing this for 9 months now, and I just wanted you to know. I love you."

"I'm... David, I don't really know what to... Wow."

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you. Seriously, it's not, like, some big thing if you don't say it back. This isn't some shitty soap opera. You have to move at your own pace. You can tell me when you're ready. I mean, not like it's a given, or anything, so... If you're ready. Ever. You can say it. But I was ready now, and I wanted you to know. So, yeah. There we go."

"David, I care about you so much, and you've helped me a lot in these past 9 months, and I miss you when I'm not with you, but... I just don't think I'm ready yet. Just not yet. I'm sorry."

His stomach drops, but his determination not to make this "a thing" takes over. "That's fine!" he assures him. "I just... I could drop dead right now-"

"David!" Kurt quickly interrupts. He looks almost scared of these words, and Dave is unsure why.

"And if I go out," he continues, "I want to go out with you knowing."

* * *

Dave follows Kurt into his bedroom, looking around at the décor, giving him a taste for who Kurt's become in the years since they were teenagers. In the center of the room is a poster sized picture of the Aladdin Sane album cover, or...

"Wait... Is that  _you_?" he asks, gesturing to the picture on the wall.

Kurt laughs, and puts his hand over his face, embarrassed. "Yes. That's me."

"Did you take that, or...?"

"No. Back in New York, my friend Amy's boyfriend was a photography major. He took the picture and she did the makeup."

"That's amazing! You look just like him."

"Well..."

"Maybe a little prettier, but..."

"Oh, wow, well, thank you for  _that_."

"True story."

Kurt steps over into his walk in closet.

"Hey, this is ironic, because-"

Kurt's laughter interrupts him.

"So the irony isn't lost on you then?"

"No. Now, turn around while I change."

"What?"

"You heard me. Eyes front!"

"Um, I've already kinda seen you-"

"I know that! This is different. Choosing an ensemble is like a sacred thing. One must earn the right to-"

"Okay, I'm just gonna stop you right there because I'm not even gonna pretend to have any idea what the hell you're talking about, so... Go choose your clothes, and I'll just wear this... Same shirt I was wearing yesterday."

"Okay. Turn."

"For everything there is a season," he says as he spins around in his chair.

"Cute," Kurt replies dryly.

"I thought so." Dave sits for a moment, noticing Kurt strip off his shirt in the mirror. "Okay, I'm just gonna move over here, because while I think this 'no watching me change even though you've already seen me naked' rule is kind of pointless, I don't wanna be  _that_  guy, so, yeah, I'll just be by the door."

"Okay then. Such a gentlemen!"

"Yes, I know. Mr. Darcy can just move the fuck over."

"Oh, nice little reference there. Which one are you, Colin Firth, or the guy from the movie whose name I don't know?"

"Um, the one written by Jane Austen?"

"Well if you wanna be pretentious then!"

Dave chuckles. "Little pretension never hurt anyone."

"The world could use a little more of it, if you ask me."

"Damn right!"

"Absolutely." Dave feels a peck at his shoulder. "Okay, what do you think?"

He looks him over. He's wearing a gray dress shirt with a darker cardigan over it, and tight black pants that Dave thinks hug him in all the right places. He can't help but bite his lip and smile at him. "That was fast."

"I've got it down to a science."

"Clearly. You... You look amazing."

Kurt smiles at him. "Well, thank you, David."

"It's... So... You ready?"

"Yes. Just let me grab a coat."

"Okay."

"Okay."

* * *

"Hey, David."

"Hey!"

"I'll be  _just_  a minute. I need to grab my blazer and I'll be ready to go."

"Take your time. I'll just hang out in here."

The apartment was a lot homier now. There were pictures on the wall, bookshelves, and not a box to be seen. One of the things that stuck out the most to Dave was a picture hanging on the wall of Kurt, Paul, and himself that was taken at a Mexican restaurant the night of Paul's birthday.

He'd found himself traveling back home more in the past 9 months than he had in the 7 years since he'd originally left. He'd developed a relationship with his father, he had a boyfriend here; more than ever, he'd had a reason to be here, but still, in his mind, it was no longer the place he called home.

"Okay, I'm ready," Paul said, emerging from his bedroom wearing a brown tweed blazer. "Just let me grab a bottle of wine, and we'll go."

"I don't think they need any wine."

"I'll bring it just in case. I'm a guest. Don't wanna be rude."

"Okay then," he says as his father walks over to a cabinet in the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of Pinot Gris.

"This should do."

"Yeah."

"Alright then. Let's go."

They arrive at the Hummel's a little after 3:00. Kurt answers the door, and the place looks completely different than when Dave left. Candles are lit, and autumn décor is placed all around the room, while a jazzy Nina Simone song played softly on the stereo. Kurt's ability to turn his living room into a 4 star dining area in under an hour astounded him. "Welcome!" Kurt said, leading the way inside the house.

"Hi, Kurt," Paul says with a smile. "Brought you this. A little thank you gift for the invitation."

"No gift necessary, but thank you! We're happy to have you... I think Finn is over there watching a football game if you'd like to join him."

"That sounds good."

"He's right over there," Kurt says, pointing towards Finn, his eyes again fixed to the flat screen in front of the couch.

"Who's playing?" Paul asked.

Finn responded without looking away from the television. "Colts versus the Packers. Colts are getting their asses handed to them. It's kind of awesome."

"Awesome?" Paul says incredulously. "You a Packers man?"

"Absolutely!"

"Okay, let's get away from them, they're talking football and I don't want you falling down that particular rabbit hole. Now, come with me. I have two pies in the oven. Pumpkin and Chess."

Dave followed Kurt through the hallway into the kitchen. "Wow, you're in like full June Cleaver mode right now," he joked.

"This is like our first big full family dinner! I want it to be perfect."

"It will be. Just... You don't have to do all this."

"I enjoy it."

"Okay. I just... I don't want you to, like, have a mental breakdown or anything."

"No, no. I'm fine. This is... I'm really excited," Kurt grins.

"Okay, but I mean... This is your first Thanksgiving without-"

"I know what it is! I'm just... Like you said, I need to distract myself, and this is helping, so..."

"Okay, but you can't just ignore it either... If you need to talk-"

"I know exactly who to come to," he says, giving Dave a small peck on the lips. "Now, you can help me, or get out of the kitchen. Which is it?"

"What do you need?"

They sat down to dinner at 4:00 on the dot. The table was covered with platters of food: turkey, gravy, stuffing, cranberries (real and the kind still holding the shape of the can for Finn), mashed potatoes, yams – all of the Thanksgiving hallmarks.

"I want to thank you all for coming. This is our first Thanksgiving without Burt, and it's good to spend it surrounded by family and friends. It makes getting through the day a little bit easier." Dave notices her voice quivering, and Kurt becoming uncomfortable and seeming a little perturbed in the seat next to him. He slips his hand under the table and grasps Kurt's hand, squeezing it as Carol continues to speak. "This was always a holiday we enjoyed together, a day to celebrate our wonderful family and just how lucky we truly are, even in times not so good." Dave now notices Finn staring down at his plate, drumming his thumbs on the edge of the table. "So," she says, raising her glass of the wine gifted to her by Paul, "Here's to all our friends and family, those here and unable to make it; and to Burt. We love you, and we miss you, and we hope to see you again someday."

"To Burt," Paul says, the only one to join the toast.

"Are you okay?" Dave whispers so only Kurt can hear.

"I'm fine," Kurt quietly snaps back.

"Okay! Sorry. I just wanted to make sure."

"Kurt, is there anything you'd like to say?" Carol asks.

"Hope you all enjoy the food!" he smiles, raising his glass and attempting to swallow back his emotion.

"I'd like to say something," Paul announces.

"Oh Jesus!" Dave mutters.

"I'd just like to say how happy I am to be here with all of you, and especially you, David. It's been a while since we've done this, celebrated this holiday together, as a family, and I'm glad we can be here together today," he says, smiling over at his son.

"Okay, this is great. We all love each other. Can we eat now?" Finn asks.

"Dig in!" Carol says to all at the table.

"Yes!" Finn says, grabbing a piece of turkey off a platter right in front of him.

Through a grin Kurt whispers, "Are  _you_  okay?"

* * *

They're seated in the Cracker Barrel dining area by an older woman with badly dyed red hair. The name Colette is stitched across the chest of her brown apron. Some bad country song that sounds like every other country song is playing over the restaurant speakers.

"So you're driving back, or...?" Kurt asks.

"Yeah. 9 hours. I probably won't get back in D.C. until like 1 A.M., then I have to be at work at like 7:00, which will be a bitch, but that's okay. This... It's been... I don't know, I don't want to say a good day, because, you know, circumstances and everything, but I've enjoyed being with you."

"I know what you mean. I hate this is what had to bring you here, and it sucks, but... I'm glad something did bring you here. Which is probably sappy or something, but yeah. That's how it goes. I hate to see you go."

"I know. I hate leaving you here, but, you know, real life. Always gets in the way of everything."

"Tell me about it... When do you have to leave?" Kurt asks, drooping his head down.

"Uh, I'll probably have to go right after we leave here."

"That blows."

"Yeah. I'd stay longer if I could, but..."

"Yeah... So, um... Will you be able to take me to get my car back at the bar?"

"Oh, yeah, of course. Sure."

"Okay."

"Okay."

* * *

They pulled up ouside of the Port Columbus airport.

"I hate goodbyes," Dave sighed.

"We'll meet up again soon, Kurt tried to console him.

"Are you really happy here?" he asked.

"What?"

"I'm... I know you're not, Kurt. And if you're not, why are you still here?"

"Carol needs-"

"No, she doesn't." Dave says, cutting him off before he can finish.

"Yes, David, she needs me to-"

"No, she doesn't!" he interrupts again. "Kurt, she's a grown woman. You stay here because it's comfortable, and safe, but... You know you aren't happy. I know you're not, because you told me as much."

"When did I ever-"

"You said: 'I miss you too. It kind of sucks here.' Kurt, you're not happy here. You know where you're supposed to be, and it's not in fucking Lima."

"David, my dad is gone!"

"And? Why does that mean you have to stay here?"

"Because!"

"Because, why?"

"Because Carol-"

"No, she doesn't!"

"Because Finn-"

"No, he doesn't! Kurt-"

"Because the last time I was there... The last time I left this place, the person I cared about more than anyone in the world fucking died! He died, David, and if I leave, if I go back..."

"Kurt, that has nothing to do with-"

"I know! I know it's stupid, and that it's not like it's cursed or anything, but the last thing I remember there is my professor pulling me aside and telling me-"

"See?"

"See what?"

"You know. You know exactly where you're supposed to be."

"What does that mean?"

"That means that I didn't have to name any location, I didn't name a place, a school, anywhere, but you knew! You know exactly where you need to be, where you're supposed to be. Kurt, you have to take this leap! You can't just stay here, afraid of change and unhappy your entire life. That's... Nothing bad is going to happen because you leave. Maybe it'll be hard to adjust, and you'll miss the hell out of people, but... There will be new people, and you already  _have_  people there. And hey, D.C. is only like a 2 hour train ride away..."

"How do you know I can do this?"

"You're Kurt Fucking Hummel. Not only are you super hot, but you're one of the bravest, most out-there people I know. Probably  _the_ most. That's why I fell in love with you in the first place..." He waits on Kurt to respond, but Kurt looks lost in his head. "Okay then," he sighs, feeling slightly resigned. "Now I have to go, because my flight is in 10 minutes, and I can't miss it, so... I'll call you when I get there, and please, just think about what I said, Kurt. You can do this. I know you can." He takes Kurt's face and kisses him. "I love you," he says as he gets out of the car and grabs his rucksack from the backseat. He stands for a moment, waiting for Kurt to tell him goodbye, but no words come. "Alright then," he says, finally walking into the airport.

He steps into the atrium, and he hears someone call behind him. "David!" He turns to see Kurt running towards him. Kurt, without looking at anyone around him, grabs Dave and kisses him, fully, passionately, with love and courage in a crowded room. "I love you."

* * *

They pulled into the lot of Somewhere In Time. Dave's stomach sank when he shifted the car into park.

"I hate goodbyes," Dave said. "I don't really want this to end."

"It doesn't have to."

"What do you mean?"

"I already told you this, but you made this night livable. You're kind of this amazing person now, and I don't want this to end either, so... I called you last night. Did you delete my number from your call log?"

"No..."

"Well, I didn't delete your number either, so when you go back... One of us will call the other, and we'll see where this takes us. Maybe this is crazy, maybe I'm in a haze of sleep deprivation and none of this will seem as  _epic_ when I finally go to my room and get some sleep... But I don't think that's going to happen. I think this is the start of something really big, and I want to follow the lead, see where it takes us. You can follow it with me or not, but I am following it. Is that okay with you?"

"That sounds good to me," he said through a smile. He felt as if his brain was racing itself around in circles.

"Okay then. Now, I'm going to go. And I'm not going to say goodbye, I'll just say that I hope you'll take my call."

"Okay."

"Well alright. I guess I'll talk to you later then," Kurt smirked at him.

"See you around."

"Take care of yourself, David," Kurt said before leaning down to kiss him one last time and heading back to his car in the mostly abandoned parking lot. Dave sat and watched him him as he drove away, and he knew in his gut that Kurt had meant what he said. This was not the end.

_The start of something really big._

* * *

He stepped stepped out of the doors of Penn Station and was greeted by the bustling sounds of Manhattan streets. He walked a short while before finally finding an available taxi. "Can you take me to 40 West 4th Street, please?"

He arrived 40 minutes later after some heavy traffic. He walked across the NYU campus and waited at a bench a few yards away from the theater department building. Finally, he heard a familiar voice speak behind him. "Okay, I'll meet you later for drinks?"

"It's your first night back, bitch! We're meeting for more than drinks. You need to get hammered!" a girl said to him.

He turned and saw Kurt talking to a girl his age with a sharp nose and tight curly black hair.

"I think that is the  _opposite_ of what I should do my first night back here. I have class tomorrow!"

"What's up, college!" he shouted to Kurt down the sidewalk.

Kurt searched around a moment for the voice he recognized, and lit up the second he found the man it belonged to. "David?" He ran up to him and wrapped his arm around his neck, pulling him in for kiss. "What are you doing here?"

"First day back, had to see how you were doing," he grinned . He smiled as he continued to kiss him.

"Kurt, are you picking up random strangers again?" the girl asked.

"Shut up, Amy! Dave, this is my friend Amy. Amy, this is my boyfriend, Dave."

"Hi, Dave."

"Hi, Amy. Kurt's told me a lot about you!"

"Oh, really? It's all lies. And, despite him only being back since last night, he's already told me  _all_  about you. All very Romeo and Romeo."

"Oh, did he?" Dave asked, raising an eyebrow to Kurt.

"I had to! I mean, she had to be filled in on all the details! I couldn't just leave her hanging, not knowing what I've been up to in my year off. It would've been rude!" Kurt defended.

"Yeah, well, I'm just happy to see you," he said as he took Kurt's hand in his.

"I know. Such a wonderful surprise. Do you wanna walk with us? I'm staying with Amy at her apartment in the Village. I'll show you our place."

"Sounds good," Dave said. "I think it's gonna rain though."

As they walked through through the city, Kurt told Dave of his first day back and his plans for the coming semester. As they finally drew closer their destination, Dave noticed the familiar backdrop from the worn out album cover that would hang on every wall of every place he'd ever call home.

He pulled Kurt close to him as the clouds burst open, causing a downpour of rain to bounce off the city streets below their feet. He lifted his jacket above them to shield them, and he couldn't help but smile at the picture.

16 years ago his grandfather left him a record player, 14 years ago he'd found a record in a dusty bin at a record store since closed, 10 years ago he'd met a boy, 1 year ago he came back for him, and now here he was, huddled next to him under a coat and a downpour of rain. Those 14 years ago, he'd developed his vision of happiness, and here, in this moment, he was living it.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

###  _**epilogue:** the beginning before the end. _

 

He'd read that panic attacks often feel similar to heart attacks, and he was beginning to understand just how true this was. As he crossed the border into D.C. his chest became tighter and his palms began to sweat. As he pulled into the parking spot outside of his apartment building, he felt as if he was going to lose his breakfast from earlier in the day. He'd never meant for it to happen this way, but that's just the way things go.

He walks into his apartment fully expecting emptiness, but is greeted by lights. A Josh Ritter song and the smell of food come drifting through the apartment from the kitchen.

"Hey, you're back!

"Yeah... I'm back."

"You look awful. What's the matter?"

"What?"

"What's wrong?" Stuart asked.

Dave paused for a moment. Sometimes for a story to have a good beginning, the one that came before must have an unhappy ending. He'd always known this. The problem with this one was...

"We need to talk."

...The beginning came before the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending may not be exactly what everyone wanted, but I'm incredibly pleased.
> 
> Many of these notes were written years ago. Opinions may have changed slightly, but I do remain pleased with the story.


End file.
